| The Tony C Page! |
On this page, we present a tribute page to New England's own Tony Conigliaro (or "Tony C" as he was affectionately called). Tony Conigliaro was born on January 7,
1945 in Revere, Massachusetts. He was the perfect example of the local kid who makes it big. And big Tony C was. At 6'-3" he packed a lot of punch. In his first at-bat at
Fenway Park he belted a home run. He also led the American League in HRs in only his second big league season. Tony C was having a monster year in 1967 ("The
Impossible Dream" Red Sox Team) when he was severely beaned by a Jack Hamilton fastball. In short, the injury and ensuing eye trouble he developed derailed his
possible Hall of Fame career. Tony was the youngest player to attain 100 career home runs (since broken by a player on the Yankees I won't mention on this page) and
made a miraculous comeback despite missing the entire 1968 season. He had 2 more solid years but eye problems forced him out of baseball at the age of 25. Tony C
made another comeback in 1975 and blasted a home run on Opening Day for the Bosox, but it was not to be. He finished his career with 164 HRs and 516 RBIs in
essentially 6 1/2 seasons. If you figure his statistics over a 162 game schedule, Tony C would have averaged 31 HRs and 95 RBIs per season. Keep in mind this was in
the pitching dominate 1960's. Tony C also pursued other endeavors (see below) but sadly his life was a story of "what could have been." He suffered a stroke in 1983 and
later a heart attack which caused his premature death at the age of 45. On this page we present our tribute to Mr. Tony Conigliaro. Gone but not forgotten...
1945 in Revere, Massachusetts. He was the perfect example of the local kid who makes it big. And big Tony C was. At 6'-3" he packed a lot of punch. In his first at-bat at
Fenway Park he belted a home run. He also led the American League in HRs in only his second big league season. Tony C was having a monster year in 1967 ("The
Impossible Dream" Red Sox Team) when he was severely beaned by a Jack Hamilton fastball. In short, the injury and ensuing eye trouble he developed derailed his
possible Hall of Fame career. Tony was the youngest player to attain 100 career home runs (since broken by a player on the Yankees I won't mention on this page) and
made a miraculous comeback despite missing the entire 1968 season. He had 2 more solid years but eye problems forced him out of baseball at the age of 25. Tony C
made another comeback in 1975 and blasted a home run on Opening Day for the Bosox, but it was not to be. He finished his career with 164 HRs and 516 RBIs in
essentially 6 1/2 seasons. If you figure his statistics over a 162 game schedule, Tony C would have averaged 31 HRs and 95 RBIs per season. Keep in mind this was in
the pitching dominate 1960's. Tony C also pursued other endeavors (see below) but sadly his life was a story of "what could have been." He suffered a stroke in 1983 and
later a heart attack which caused his premature death at the age of 45. On this page we present our tribute to Mr. Tony Conigliaro. Gone but not forgotten...
Topps baseball cards of Tony Conigliaro (Click on image to enlarge)
1964 #287 1965 #55 1966 #380 1966 #218 1967 #280 1968 #140 1969 # 1970 #
1971 #63 1971 #105
Tony Conigliaro wrote a book after his ordeal, called "Seeing It Through." He was also featured in various magazines (see the issues above). After his beaning in 1967, which
forced him to miss the remainder of the season (including the World Series) Tony was on the DL for the entire 1968 season. He came back strong in 1969, hitting another Opening
Day home run. He finished the season with terrific numbers considering his eye injury- .255 with 20 HRs and 82 RBIs. The following year, 1970, he was even stronger. Tony batted
.266 with 36 HRs and 116 RBIs. Sadly, this was to be his last full season in the big leagues. Tony was traded to the California Angels on Oct. 11, 1970 along with Ken Tatum, Jarvis
Tatum, and Doug Griffin for Ray Jarvis and Gerry Moses. With eyesight problems reoccurring, Tony appeared in only 74 games for the Halos and batted just .222 with 4 HRs and
15 RBIs. Tony C attempted another comeback in 1975 but batted just .123 with 2 HRs (one on Opening Day) and 9 RBIs. He appeared in only 21 games. Tony Conigliaro's last
game was June 12, 1975. Today, MLB's Comeback Player of the Year Award is now called the "Tony Conigliaro Comeback Player of the Year Award" in tribute to this courageous
player. Click HERE for complete baseball statistics of Tony Conigliaro, courtesy of baseballreference.com.
forced him to miss the remainder of the season (including the World Series) Tony was on the DL for the entire 1968 season. He came back strong in 1969, hitting another Opening
Day home run. He finished the season with terrific numbers considering his eye injury- .255 with 20 HRs and 82 RBIs. The following year, 1970, he was even stronger. Tony batted
.266 with 36 HRs and 116 RBIs. Sadly, this was to be his last full season in the big leagues. Tony was traded to the California Angels on Oct. 11, 1970 along with Ken Tatum, Jarvis
Tatum, and Doug Griffin for Ray Jarvis and Gerry Moses. With eyesight problems reoccurring, Tony appeared in only 74 games for the Halos and batted just .222 with 4 HRs and
15 RBIs. Tony C attempted another comeback in 1975 but batted just .123 with 2 HRs (one on Opening Day) and 9 RBIs. He appeared in only 21 games. Tony Conigliaro's last
game was June 12, 1975. Today, MLB's Comeback Player of the Year Award is now called the "Tony Conigliaro Comeback Player of the Year Award" in tribute to this courageous
player. Click HERE for complete baseball statistics of Tony Conigliaro, courtesy of baseballreference.com.
Sports Illustrated cover featuring Tony C Sport Magazine 6/69 featuring Tony Conigliaro
Boston Globe 2/7/68 news clipping of Tony C performance (Courtesy of Cheryll Ann Parker)
The internet is pretty amazing. If you read the above news clipping of a Tony C singing performance, you will see the name of a young blonde singer named "Sheryll Ann." She
opened this particular show for Tony Conigliaro at a club called O'Dees in Boston on February 7, 1968. Well wouldn't you know Cheryll happened upon my Tony C page and she
told me that she had sung with him. How wonderful. So she has provided this for The Tony C Page. I am trying to get some more photos and stories from Cheryll and hope to be
adding them soon! Cheryll is a cool chic and I bet Tony C dug her (see pic below). Btw, while the above review is not the most favorable towards Tony C (and favorable towards
Cheryll Ann!) it is still exciting to imagine what it was like to have been there. So thanks so much Cheryll!
opened this particular show for Tony Conigliaro at a club called O'Dees in Boston on February 7, 1968. Well wouldn't you know Cheryll happened upon my Tony C page and she
told me that she had sung with him. How wonderful. So she has provided this for The Tony C Page. I am trying to get some more photos and stories from Cheryll and hope to be
adding them soon! Cheryll is a cool chic and I bet Tony C dug her (see pic below). Btw, while the above review is not the most favorable towards Tony C (and favorable towards
Cheryll Ann!) it is still exciting to imagine what it was like to have been there. So thanks so much Cheryll!
| Cheryll Ann Parker belting one out at O'Dees 45 rpm for "An Evening For Tony C." |
Just got this email from Cheryll. I thought it was great so I am just going to put it here and let her do the talking. Thanks Cheryll!
Hello Tim......I'm glad you got the email.......finally! I'll try to put the wonderful story of Tony and I together for you the best I can.....
In my early years growing up there wasn't one day that my grandmother, mother's side, wouldn't be playing the stereo, phonograph, they called it then.....If she were here today I
can hear her saying it too........She played the piano and had fun making up her own songs as well.....One song us grandchildren can't forget, "When the Moon comes over the
Mountain"....LOL.....She was great we all loved her too much......Anyway, of course I had my vocals showing off to myself.......but my grandmother made me sing to the whole family,
I mean everyone....."Cheryll has a nice voice let's get her singing....." Well comes to find out that people in the business liked what they heard....I got to sing in night clubs even
though I was under age; my parents were always at myside.......Got to cut a couple of 45's, did some touring with the Supremes's, Beach Boys, Dave Clark 5 etc......Really great
days......One night I happen to go out to a club in downtown Boston with my girlfriends and body guard, my aunt Maryann, and while I was sitting at the table someone asked me if
Tony C. could talk to me......Where I said......then he comes walking to me with a Big Smile and those Meatball Eyes......He asked if I wanted to sing with him if he was to put a show
together........That's how we started.......As far as him singing he was as good as another singer with personality.......We sounded good together......This went on until he got an
offer to be on radio in California to do sports out there......He also opened a health store.....As fate be it......The last trip back to Boston from CA is when he had his heart attack
going back to Logan Airport.........Poor Billy C. was driving him there.......My many wonderful memories of Tony are his humor when we got together......looking in his eyes when we
sang together and eating pizza!!!
When he came out of his coma I got together with his Aunt Phyllis, Uncle Vinnie's wife.....Uncle Vinnie was Tony's mother's brother who got Tony starting playing as a child.....We
were all from Revere, Ma growing up.........I went to the hospital to see him when he came out of the coma and the reaction from my visit got things going again......I would go to his
home in Nahant, MA. I did this till three weeks before he passed......I did not go to his funeral because I couldn't bear to see him in the coffin.......I do go to his grave and it's hard
for me to realize my buddy and side kick is no longer around......It was hard enough for me to see him in a wheelchair and he used to cry to me and I'd do something funny to make
him laugh......he knew what was going on around him he just could speak very well........
The Red Sox hat I all most forgot......when he was at my house one day after going over our songs, we were going back to his car, blue corvette I must add.........he threw it at me
thinking maybe she can't catch it... WRONG!!!!! I did and still have it saved away......My Tony... may we sing again in Heaven with lots of cheers! Peace, Blessings Cheryll
Hello Tim......I'm glad you got the email.......finally! I'll try to put the wonderful story of Tony and I together for you the best I can.....
In my early years growing up there wasn't one day that my grandmother, mother's side, wouldn't be playing the stereo, phonograph, they called it then.....If she were here today I
can hear her saying it too........She played the piano and had fun making up her own songs as well.....One song us grandchildren can't forget, "When the Moon comes over the
Mountain"....LOL.....She was great we all loved her too much......Anyway, of course I had my vocals showing off to myself.......but my grandmother made me sing to the whole family,
I mean everyone....."Cheryll has a nice voice let's get her singing....." Well comes to find out that people in the business liked what they heard....I got to sing in night clubs even
though I was under age; my parents were always at myside.......Got to cut a couple of 45's, did some touring with the Supremes's, Beach Boys, Dave Clark 5 etc......Really great
days......One night I happen to go out to a club in downtown Boston with my girlfriends and body guard, my aunt Maryann, and while I was sitting at the table someone asked me if
Tony C. could talk to me......Where I said......then he comes walking to me with a Big Smile and those Meatball Eyes......He asked if I wanted to sing with him if he was to put a show
together........That's how we started.......As far as him singing he was as good as another singer with personality.......We sounded good together......This went on until he got an
offer to be on radio in California to do sports out there......He also opened a health store.....As fate be it......The last trip back to Boston from CA is when he had his heart attack
going back to Logan Airport.........Poor Billy C. was driving him there.......My many wonderful memories of Tony are his humor when we got together......looking in his eyes when we
sang together and eating pizza!!!
When he came out of his coma I got together with his Aunt Phyllis, Uncle Vinnie's wife.....Uncle Vinnie was Tony's mother's brother who got Tony starting playing as a child.....We
were all from Revere, Ma growing up.........I went to the hospital to see him when he came out of the coma and the reaction from my visit got things going again......I would go to his
home in Nahant, MA. I did this till three weeks before he passed......I did not go to his funeral because I couldn't bear to see him in the coffin.......I do go to his grave and it's hard
for me to realize my buddy and side kick is no longer around......It was hard enough for me to see him in a wheelchair and he used to cry to me and I'd do something funny to make
him laugh......he knew what was going on around him he just could speak very well........
The Red Sox hat I all most forgot......when he was at my house one day after going over our songs, we were going back to his car, blue corvette I must add.........he threw it at me
thinking maybe she can't catch it... WRONG!!!!! I did and still have it saved away......My Tony... may we sing again in Heaven with lots of cheers! Peace, Blessings Cheryll
More Tony C & Cheryl Ann newsclippings from 1968 (click on image for full size)
The following is an online news article about Tony Conigliaro and Jack Hamilton, the pitcher who accidentally hit Tony C. I copied and pasted this after I saw it online. I don't think
Jack Hamilton intentionally threw at Tony (the only person who would know that is Jack Hamilton). Back then there were some unspoken rules in baseball; one was if you are a
pitcher, and you want to be successful, you need to establish control of the plate. If a batter crowds the plate (like Tony C. did) a good pitcher will throw inside to "back you off the
plate." Don Drysdale made a living doing that (including setting a record for most hit batters and he is in Baseball's Hall Of Fame). In today's game, more pitchers are afraid to pitch
inside- not because they are afraid of hitting batters, but because they ARE afraid of the batter getting ticked off and charging the mound. It's a different game now.
"Accidental Villain" By Jeff Passan, Yahoo! Sports
August 17, 2007
Back in Morning Sun, Iowa, they didn't teach baseball pitchers to aim for the corners of home plate. If you were born with the kind of arm that could put a dent in the barn, the kind
that God loved to bestow on country boys, the ethos was simple.
"I just went out and threw hard," Jack Hamilton says. "That's all I knew enough to do."
Imagine Hamilton's amazement when, in 1967, he started to control his pitches. As a rookie with Philadelphia five years earlier, Hamilton led the National League in walks and wild
pitches, a 95-mph fastball his wild horse. Of all the things to help Hamilton tame himself, learning the spitball – an illegal pitch in which he lubed up the horsehide with a sheen of
phlegm, sending it tumbling like a dive bomber – somehow did the job.
"I was throwing excellent," Hamilton says. "I was finally starting to get the ball over the plate."
Hamilton sits in his office in Branson, Mo., kitsch capital of the United States. A vacation in 1986 convinced him to pack up all his stuff in Burlington, Iowa, and retire there with his
wife to open a restaurant. Little did he know Branson would turn into a Midwest tourist trap and encourage visitors from so many places. New York, he says, and Los Angeles, and
Dallas, and, yes, Boston.
When tour buses from the Northeast roll into Branson, Hamilton readies himself. The baseball memorabilia on the walls of the restaurant invites the first round of questions, and after
a few, Hamilton's name comes up, and when it does, he hears what he has heard now for 40 years.
"Are you the Jack Hamilton?"
The Jack Hamilton who hit Tony Conigliaro, they mean, though they wouldn't dare take Tony C's name in vain like that. He was a deity in Boston, where they will never forget the
day, 40 years ago Saturday, when Hamilton felled him with a fastball flush on the left side of his face. As Conigliaro writhed on the ground, blood spilling from his nose and mouth
and ears, Hamilton walked toward the plate before his catcher, Buck Rodgers, shooed him away to spare him from the carnage.
So standing in the middle of the field at Fenway Park, a fallen star before him, a stunned crowd around him, Hamilton turned introspective, the only safe place he knew. He had hit
just one batter that season. He wouldn't hit another after Conigliaro. And it all made him wonder the same thing that has haunted him for four decades.
How did it happen?
"No one," Hamilton says, "lets me forget it."
***
Every kid who grows up in Boston learns the story of Tony C, and for many it's their first taste of sadness and broken dreams. At first, it sounds like a fairy tale: the local boy, a
product of St. Mary's High in Lynn, starts his first game with the Red Sox as a 19-year-old and hits the first pitch he sees for a home run. He leads the American League in home
runs the next season, smacks 100 homers quicker than anyone in history, slays girls with his brown eyes the size of drink coasters, dates sexpot Mamie Van Doren, cruises the city
in a Corvette, records a few songs and is well on his way to becoming one of the greatest baseball players anyone saw.
And then Jack Hamilton shows up.
In the retelling, Hamilton was the Big Bad Wolf. By the fourth inning, the California Angels right-hander had allowed just one hit, a single in Conigliaro's first at-bat. Hamilton lorded
over the mound, ominous wisps of smoke curling in the outfield, remnants of the smoke bomb a fan lobbed onto the field two batters earlier. Conigliaro stepped in and leaned over
the plate, the alpha dog marking his territory. Hamilton had a reputation for coming inside with his pitches. Tony C spat on reputations.
The first pitch was a fastball, the pre-'67 kind. Hamilton lost it high and tight. Tony C hesitated. A 95-mph fastball arrives at the plate in around four-tenths of a second. When Tony
C moved, his helmet, without an earflap, rustled loose. The ball smashed into Conigliaro and thudded to the ground, its impact absorbed by his face.
"He didn't stagger at all," Hamilton says. "He went straight down."
The beaning fractured Conigliaro's cheekbone, dislocated his jaw and caused a cyst to form behind his left eye, which some teammates were afraid had fallen out of the socket.
Conigliaro said he thought he was going to die. He was rushed to the hospital. The Red Sox seethed in their dugout, big George Scott pointing his bat at Hamilton, poised to avenge
his friend.
Conigliaro lived. He sported a shiner that looked like an abstract painting, blacks and purples mingling sickeningly. Conigliaro missed the rest of the season and all of 1968 with
blurred vision. He entertained the idea of pitching before his eyesight improved and allowed him to return April 8, 1969, the Red Sox's first game of the season.
In the 10th inning, Conigliaro hit a two-run home run, and he scored the winning run in the 12th. The next season, he hit a career-high 36 home runs, finished second in the AL with
116 RBIs and looked well on his way to a baseball resurrection.
His eyes wouldn't cooperate. The Red Sox traded Conigliaro to the Angels after the 1970 season. He flamed out and left baseball. A 1975 comeback with Boston was aborted after
57 at-bats. By 30, Tony C was retired.
Time chewed and Conigliaro passed it working as a sports broadcaster. Following an interview for a TV job calling Red Sox games Jan. 9, 1982, he suffered a massive heart attack
on the way to the airport in his brother Billy's car. Conigliaro's heart stopped for more than five minutes. He lay comatose for seven weeks. When he awoke, his family tried
everything to salvage his life. They brought shamans, holistic healers, acupuncturists. Nothing worked. Still struggling, Conigliaro died in 1990 of pneumonia and kidney failure. He
was 45.
Major League Baseball honors a player every season with the Tony Conigliaro Award for overcoming adversity. The Red Sox will mark the 40th anniversary of the beaning Saturday
with a ceremony that includes Conigliaro's family.
Boston's opponent: The Los Angeles Angels.
By now, Hamilton understands that for the rest of his life, he will be a villain to countless people he has never met. Billy Conigliaro still believes Hamilton played headhunter with his
brother.
"I couldn't take a baseball and throw it at somebody's head on purpose," Hamilton says. "I don't have the guts.
"I really don't care what the public thinks about me. Accidents happen. If I thought about it all the time, it would bother me. I know in my heart, I didn't mean to throw it."
Sometimes, Hamilton wishes he could have said that to Conigliaro's face. The two never spoke. They faced each other April 11, 1969, Conigliaro's third game back, as well as April
20. He went 1 for 4 with a sacrifice bunt.
A little more than a year later, Conigliaro's autobiography "Seeing It Through" was published.
"I know it was an accident," Conigliaro wrote, "but I honestly don't know if I have ever really forgiven him for it."
***
Ever since Boxcar Willie died, Hamilton hasn't been to a baseball game. Hamilton befriended the country singer, one of the first to build his own theater in Branson, and the two
would make the four-hour drive to St. Louis and take in a few Cardinals games a year.
"Just watching baseball is my hobby," Hamilton says. "Now I've got the Extra Innings package. I'll stay up for the West Coast games. I'll sit at home and watch until 12:30."
Hamilton's career ended two years after the pitch to Conigliaro. He blames it on injuries. Some say he was scared to pitch inside. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was neither.
Occasionally he'll go into his back yard and play catch with his son. Hamilton is 68 now. His wife, Janyce, runs the books at their restaurant. His son is a cook, his daughter a waiter.
Hamilton schmoozes, chats baseball with interested customers and tells them to order prime rib, the house specialty.
At the front of the restaurant, Hamilton hands out baseball cards of himself that highlight his career. Each talks about the grand slam he hit off Al Jackson in 1967, or the one-hit
shutout he threw against the Cardinals the year before, the only blemish a bunt single by pitcher Ray Sadecki. Nowhere does it mention Conigliaro.
Most people don't know any better. They're just glad to be in Branson, at Jack's Plaza View Restaurant, talking baseball with a former major leaguer. Hamilton has owned a few
restaurants over the years in Branson. He called one Pzazz, a name he stole from another establishment in Burlington because he found it so unique.
"I'll tell you something," Hamilton says. "When people see something they haven't seen before, they don't forget the name."
Jack Hamilton intentionally threw at Tony (the only person who would know that is Jack Hamilton). Back then there were some unspoken rules in baseball; one was if you are a
pitcher, and you want to be successful, you need to establish control of the plate. If a batter crowds the plate (like Tony C. did) a good pitcher will throw inside to "back you off the
plate." Don Drysdale made a living doing that (including setting a record for most hit batters and he is in Baseball's Hall Of Fame). In today's game, more pitchers are afraid to pitch
inside- not because they are afraid of hitting batters, but because they ARE afraid of the batter getting ticked off and charging the mound. It's a different game now.
"Accidental Villain" By Jeff Passan, Yahoo! Sports
August 17, 2007
Back in Morning Sun, Iowa, they didn't teach baseball pitchers to aim for the corners of home plate. If you were born with the kind of arm that could put a dent in the barn, the kind
that God loved to bestow on country boys, the ethos was simple.
"I just went out and threw hard," Jack Hamilton says. "That's all I knew enough to do."
Imagine Hamilton's amazement when, in 1967, he started to control his pitches. As a rookie with Philadelphia five years earlier, Hamilton led the National League in walks and wild
pitches, a 95-mph fastball his wild horse. Of all the things to help Hamilton tame himself, learning the spitball – an illegal pitch in which he lubed up the horsehide with a sheen of
phlegm, sending it tumbling like a dive bomber – somehow did the job.
"I was throwing excellent," Hamilton says. "I was finally starting to get the ball over the plate."
Hamilton sits in his office in Branson, Mo., kitsch capital of the United States. A vacation in 1986 convinced him to pack up all his stuff in Burlington, Iowa, and retire there with his
wife to open a restaurant. Little did he know Branson would turn into a Midwest tourist trap and encourage visitors from so many places. New York, he says, and Los Angeles, and
Dallas, and, yes, Boston.
When tour buses from the Northeast roll into Branson, Hamilton readies himself. The baseball memorabilia on the walls of the restaurant invites the first round of questions, and after
a few, Hamilton's name comes up, and when it does, he hears what he has heard now for 40 years.
"Are you the Jack Hamilton?"
The Jack Hamilton who hit Tony Conigliaro, they mean, though they wouldn't dare take Tony C's name in vain like that. He was a deity in Boston, where they will never forget the
day, 40 years ago Saturday, when Hamilton felled him with a fastball flush on the left side of his face. As Conigliaro writhed on the ground, blood spilling from his nose and mouth
and ears, Hamilton walked toward the plate before his catcher, Buck Rodgers, shooed him away to spare him from the carnage.
So standing in the middle of the field at Fenway Park, a fallen star before him, a stunned crowd around him, Hamilton turned introspective, the only safe place he knew. He had hit
just one batter that season. He wouldn't hit another after Conigliaro. And it all made him wonder the same thing that has haunted him for four decades.
How did it happen?
"No one," Hamilton says, "lets me forget it."
***
Every kid who grows up in Boston learns the story of Tony C, and for many it's their first taste of sadness and broken dreams. At first, it sounds like a fairy tale: the local boy, a
product of St. Mary's High in Lynn, starts his first game with the Red Sox as a 19-year-old and hits the first pitch he sees for a home run. He leads the American League in home
runs the next season, smacks 100 homers quicker than anyone in history, slays girls with his brown eyes the size of drink coasters, dates sexpot Mamie Van Doren, cruises the city
in a Corvette, records a few songs and is well on his way to becoming one of the greatest baseball players anyone saw.
And then Jack Hamilton shows up.
In the retelling, Hamilton was the Big Bad Wolf. By the fourth inning, the California Angels right-hander had allowed just one hit, a single in Conigliaro's first at-bat. Hamilton lorded
over the mound, ominous wisps of smoke curling in the outfield, remnants of the smoke bomb a fan lobbed onto the field two batters earlier. Conigliaro stepped in and leaned over
the plate, the alpha dog marking his territory. Hamilton had a reputation for coming inside with his pitches. Tony C spat on reputations.
The first pitch was a fastball, the pre-'67 kind. Hamilton lost it high and tight. Tony C hesitated. A 95-mph fastball arrives at the plate in around four-tenths of a second. When Tony
C moved, his helmet, without an earflap, rustled loose. The ball smashed into Conigliaro and thudded to the ground, its impact absorbed by his face.
"He didn't stagger at all," Hamilton says. "He went straight down."
The beaning fractured Conigliaro's cheekbone, dislocated his jaw and caused a cyst to form behind his left eye, which some teammates were afraid had fallen out of the socket.
Conigliaro said he thought he was going to die. He was rushed to the hospital. The Red Sox seethed in their dugout, big George Scott pointing his bat at Hamilton, poised to avenge
his friend.
Conigliaro lived. He sported a shiner that looked like an abstract painting, blacks and purples mingling sickeningly. Conigliaro missed the rest of the season and all of 1968 with
blurred vision. He entertained the idea of pitching before his eyesight improved and allowed him to return April 8, 1969, the Red Sox's first game of the season.
In the 10th inning, Conigliaro hit a two-run home run, and he scored the winning run in the 12th. The next season, he hit a career-high 36 home runs, finished second in the AL with
116 RBIs and looked well on his way to a baseball resurrection.
His eyes wouldn't cooperate. The Red Sox traded Conigliaro to the Angels after the 1970 season. He flamed out and left baseball. A 1975 comeback with Boston was aborted after
57 at-bats. By 30, Tony C was retired.
Time chewed and Conigliaro passed it working as a sports broadcaster. Following an interview for a TV job calling Red Sox games Jan. 9, 1982, he suffered a massive heart attack
on the way to the airport in his brother Billy's car. Conigliaro's heart stopped for more than five minutes. He lay comatose for seven weeks. When he awoke, his family tried
everything to salvage his life. They brought shamans, holistic healers, acupuncturists. Nothing worked. Still struggling, Conigliaro died in 1990 of pneumonia and kidney failure. He
was 45.
Major League Baseball honors a player every season with the Tony Conigliaro Award for overcoming adversity. The Red Sox will mark the 40th anniversary of the beaning Saturday
with a ceremony that includes Conigliaro's family.
Boston's opponent: The Los Angeles Angels.
By now, Hamilton understands that for the rest of his life, he will be a villain to countless people he has never met. Billy Conigliaro still believes Hamilton played headhunter with his
brother.
"I couldn't take a baseball and throw it at somebody's head on purpose," Hamilton says. "I don't have the guts.
"I really don't care what the public thinks about me. Accidents happen. If I thought about it all the time, it would bother me. I know in my heart, I didn't mean to throw it."
Sometimes, Hamilton wishes he could have said that to Conigliaro's face. The two never spoke. They faced each other April 11, 1969, Conigliaro's third game back, as well as April
20. He went 1 for 4 with a sacrifice bunt.
A little more than a year later, Conigliaro's autobiography "Seeing It Through" was published.
"I know it was an accident," Conigliaro wrote, "but I honestly don't know if I have ever really forgiven him for it."
***
Ever since Boxcar Willie died, Hamilton hasn't been to a baseball game. Hamilton befriended the country singer, one of the first to build his own theater in Branson, and the two
would make the four-hour drive to St. Louis and take in a few Cardinals games a year.
"Just watching baseball is my hobby," Hamilton says. "Now I've got the Extra Innings package. I'll stay up for the West Coast games. I'll sit at home and watch until 12:30."
Hamilton's career ended two years after the pitch to Conigliaro. He blames it on injuries. Some say he was scared to pitch inside. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was neither.
Occasionally he'll go into his back yard and play catch with his son. Hamilton is 68 now. His wife, Janyce, runs the books at their restaurant. His son is a cook, his daughter a waiter.
Hamilton schmoozes, chats baseball with interested customers and tells them to order prime rib, the house specialty.
At the front of the restaurant, Hamilton hands out baseball cards of himself that highlight his career. Each talks about the grand slam he hit off Al Jackson in 1967, or the one-hit
shutout he threw against the Cardinals the year before, the only blemish a bunt single by pitcher Ray Sadecki. Nowhere does it mention Conigliaro.
Most people don't know any better. They're just glad to be in Branson, at Jack's Plaza View Restaurant, talking baseball with a former major leaguer. Hamilton has owned a few
restaurants over the years in Branson. He called one Pzazz, a name he stole from another establishment in Burlington because he found it so unique.
"I'll tell you something," Hamilton says. "When people see something they haven't seen before, they don't forget the name."
Rest In Peace Tony C...
| 1968 Topps Jack Hamilton |
1968 Topps #140 Tony Conigliaro Vault File Copy
| 1967 Topps Red Sox Stickers #3 1967 Topps Red Sox Stickers #30 Tony Tony Conigliaro Conigliaro Is My Hero |
In 1967, besides it's regular baseball set, Topps Chewing Gum, Inc. produced a very limited "test" issue of both Pirates and Red Sox stickers. Needless to say, these are very scarce
today. The 1967 Topps Red Sox stickers featured of course, Yaz, who went on to win the Triple Crown that season, plus many other Bosox players from the "Impossible Dream"
season. Included are two Tony Conigliaro stickers (pictured above). Along with the Venezuelan Topps Tony Conigliaro issues, these are probably one of the toughest Tony C
issues to find. Good luck!
today. The 1967 Topps Red Sox stickers featured of course, Yaz, who went on to win the Triple Crown that season, plus many other Bosox players from the "Impossible Dream"
season. Included are two Tony Conigliaro stickers (pictured above). Along with the Venezuelan Topps Tony Conigliaro issues, these are probably one of the toughest Tony C
issues to find. Good luck!
If you enjoyed this page, check out our other player pages including Carl Yastrzemski (new!), Fred Lynn,
Jimmy Piersall, and Roger Maris!
Jimmy Piersall, and Roger Maris!