"At Least I Get to Write the Headline"

The first sentence of the Facebook post where he announced his news was classic Bill Pemstein.

“At least I get to write the headline,” he wrote.

So was the rest of the post by my friend and former colleague.

“I have been diagnosed with ALS. Lou Gehrig’s disease,” he wrote. “It will one day kill me. I hated acne in college. It went away. I hated ulcerative colitis (30 years). They cured it. My walking is off. I’ve fallen. I have a wonderful physical therapist nearby who is helping me tremendously. Not feeling sorry for myself.”

In one paragraph, you get a glimpse into his sense of humor, the way his mind works, his raw honesty, and his positive, determined attitude.

“Would I invite him to the Life of Riley Party?”

In 2002, I was a correspondent for the Daily Herald and Bill was with the Pioneer Press. We covered many of the same games and quickly struck up a friendship. Talking with Bill, whether about sports, music or his family, was always a trip.

Each summer, he organized a group to take in Brewers games on weekday evenings in Milwaukee. The man thought of everything. From leaving enough time at the start to drink a wide selection of eclectic beers in the Miller Park parking lot, to always making time to stop at Leon’s Frozen Custard on the way back.

Before he moved to Illinois, Bill worked in sales for the Baltimore Orioles. His stories about those days were legendary, made even all the more memorable because all three of his sons were named after Orioles.

None of those sons were named Cal, Jim or Eddie; instead, it was Brady, Riley and Nolan.

I didn’t learn why until years later when he told me that his wife was on board with naming after Orioles players as long as they were Irish names. So his three sons received names in honor of Brady Anderson, Matt Riley and Joe Nolan, respectively.

Riley had a difficult birth and to celebrate his health, for many years, the Pemstein family would throw a “Life of Riley” party over Labor Day Weekend. I looked forward to the party and could tell how much it meant to Bill and his family.

I once asked Bill about a fellow sportswriter who covered some of the same games and I’ll never forget his answer. “He seems like a good guy but I’m not sure if I’d invite him to a Life of Riley party.”

I’m so glad I made the cut for the party and for our friendship.

Pioneer Press Days

Bill covered high school sports in his own unique way. Too many stories to recount so let’s pick two that stand out in particular.

For many years before the state high school playoffs in basketball, Bill would write his annual trade column. In it, he would propose hypothetical trades.  For example, ship a guard to a team that needed some ball-handling and quickness, and in return the team would receive some needed size.

One year, Bill received a call from a parent saying that his daughter was in tears because she believed she had really been traded and would have to start going to a new school. The parent thought this was an insult to his daughter.

Bill’s reply was classic. He only trades good players!

The second one was the time an accomplished football player became a high school coach and told Bill his team would go to the playoffs. Bill replied they should worry about winning a game, not making the playoffs. They bet a steak dinner and sure enough the team went 0-9. The steak dinner was paid up but there was some tension over whether the bet included wine. It was a triumphant night for Bill.

Those Orioles and Throwing Stone(s)

Every author needs a muse.

For some, it’s a beautiful woman or a striking piece of art. For Bill, it was a rather average pitcher better known for his candid color commentary, who, in 1980, for the Orioles (of course), put together one of the most surreal seasons in MLB history.

Stone went 25-7 with a 3.23 ERA, won 14 consecutive games, and retired all nine batters he faced in the All-Star game. Throwing his curve more than 50 percent of the time, Stone notched more single-season victories than any pitcher in franchise history. For his career, Stone was 107-93 with a 3.97 ERA.

After his playing days ended, Stone became better known for his broadcasting career, first for the Cubs and now for the White Sox.

“If I had moved to Seattle or Missouri, I never would have thought about it,” Bill told me for an article I wrote in 2011 for the Pioneer Press. “I would watch him on television and think I had to write a book about that incredible season.”

Bill's research into the 1980 season began in the early 2000s. He ordered out-of-state newspapers and devoured websites such as Retrosheet.org and Baseball-Reference.com. In 2003, he made the trip to Baltimore and photocopied “every stinking article from the Baltimore Sun.” He hired our mutual friend T.J. Brown to edit the book and self-published it.

In addition to some book signings, a major highlight for Bill came when the Babe Ruth Museum in Baltimore purchased 12 books.

Tunes and More Tunes

Bill always referred to the basement of his house as “the shrine.” It was filled with Orioles memorabilia, idiosyncratic drinks and more music than you could imagine.

He had a 200-CD stereo and he needed every bit of it. He was an Ipod first adopter and made sure he used every single bit of his storage. When he got to 99,999 songs, he was not ready to stop.

“I remember the person he talked to at Apple was astounded he had that many songs,” Nolan said.

In addition to his vinyl, CDs and digital music library, Bill kept hundreds of old cassette tapes. The older two boys have their own musical tastes but Nolan is just like his old man. That means high on Nolan’s playlist is Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band, Al Stewart, Stevie Wonder and “many musicians no one has ever heard of.”

“That’s why I’ll never connect with my generation,” Nolan said with a smile. “One of my friends popped in a tape and wondered what was going on?”

His Boys

I always loved the pride and joy Bill took in his three children. Although each boy has a different favorite team (White Sox, Red Sox and Mets, respectively), they inherited his love of baseball. Of course, that love also came from their mom who was quite a softball pitcher. In fact, one of Bill and Eileen’s first dates was a pickup softball games with some friends from the Pioneer Press.

All three boys played baseball and Bill’s commentary on their games was always much anticipated. Nolan tells a story about the time he was in a jam and before a pitch his father shouted loudly,” throw your slider.”

“I never had a slider,” Nolan said with a smile. “That got me to laugh right on the mound.”

Nolan points out proudly that at Lake Zurich High School where he will be a junior, there is a wall of framed stories from local newspapers. Each time he walks by, he knows that his dad’s byline is featured.

Nolan admires the way his dad continues to make the most of each day.

“He works with his physical therapist, he watches reruns of classic MLB games, listens to music and watches movies,” Nolan said. “A lot of people would give up but not him.”

Bill, I hope you read this with an MLB classic ballgame on in the background, while sipping a microbrew and listening to the great, great Nils Lofgren.

That would be the best kind of multitasking.