At a press conference during the All-Star gathering, Sullivan made the case for Campy as the league’s most valuable player. He raved about his defense—his arm, his range—and how many times he’d cut off an opponent’s rally with a spectacular play.
“He makes it look routine,” he said.
He also sang his praises offensively—his power, his speed—and how often he had manufactured runs by his foot speed alone, stealing bases, stretching doubles into triples, bothering the pitcher.
“I think it’s safe to say he’s been involved in half of the runs we’ve scored,” Sullivan ventured.
A reporter brought up Manly Johnston. “Manly’s having a great year, no doubt about it,” said Sullivan. “But Campy means more to us. Take him away and we’re in trouble.”
To put an exclamation point on Sullivan’s contention, in the crucial series against Lynchburg at Rickwood, Campy got six hits, helping the Barons to take three out of four and hike their lead back to four. He was hitting .323.
Sitting at his desk in his home office on his twenty-acre estate in La Porte, Indiana, eighty miles from Chicago, Finley was faced with a new dilemma—whether or not to call up Bert Campaneris.
Personnel decisions for the A’s were usually made collectively by Finley; his general manager, Pat Friday; and the manager, now Mel McGaha. Several times over the last month they had discussed the option of calling up Campy. McGaha had lobbied for it, believing Campy could help Kansas City immediately with his speed and aggressiveness. Friday had demurred, thinking it would be best to leave him in Birmingham until the end of the season, and then call him up for the last month. That left the deciding vote with Finley.
“I wouldn’t worry about this decision if I weren’t so concerned with Birmingham,” he said. “I’ve got my friends down there. I’m between the devil and the deep blue sea. Betwixt and between.”
During the internal debate over whether to call up Campy, Finley took the unusual tactic of keeping the Birmingham press informed of his dilemma. Alf Van Hoose of the News made the case for Campy to stay by pointing out that no Baron player called up in the middle of the season for the last twenty years by its big-league affiliate—whether the Yankees, Red Sox, Tigers, or now Kansas City (Grzenda)—had made a significant immediate contribution:
If KC calls up Campy, a guy with the ability of any player called up from the Barons, he’ll be missed and mourned. He’s as exciting a player as any Baron of recent years. But there will be nothing we can do about it.
From a selfish standpoint, Sullivan didn’t think Campy should be called up. Sullivan’s reports on Campy to the front office had not only extolled his physical talents but also emphasized Campy’s improved temper control. Other than the game he got kicked out of in Chattanooga for decking another player, he had not been thrown out of a game. In his first two seasons, he had acquired a reputation for throwing bats and helmets, and had been suspended by his own manager. But he had toned that way down. Although Sullivan would not take credit for this improvement, his players believed he’d been a big influence. Campy respected Sullivan, and did not want to disappoint him.
After several days of rumors swirling about Campy’s status, Finley reluctantly decided to leave him in Birmingham. In the end, the deciding factor was something Sullivan had told him about the Barons’ team chemistry.
“Mr. Finley, you hear the term team effort overused describing championship teams,” said Sullivan. “But with this club, it fits. I’ve never experienced a squad that has meshed better than this one.”
Finley called Belcher and Sullivan to inform them that he had decided to leave Campy in Birmingham. Because conjecture about Campy’s status had been all over the news, Finley and Belcher hatched a promotional idea to celebrate his staying. For the Barons’ game the night before the exhibition with Kansas City, Campy would play all nine positions. He’d done it before in A ball, only this time when he pitched, he would alternate throwing left-handed to one hitter, then right-handed to the next. He was the only player in organized baseball who could throw with either hand. Finley helped draft the promotional copy.
After the Barons lost the series opener at Rickwood to Asheville 6–4, Sullivan summoned Campy to his office. In the losing effort, Campy had hit his sixth home run and a double, raising his average to .325. During the game, the PA announcer informed the crowd that on August 2, “our great shortstop Bert Campaneris will be playing all nine positions.”
“Campy, I’ve got good news for you,” said Sully, speaking slowly.
Campy stared blankly at him, not certain what he meant.
“You’re going to the big leagues,” said Sullivan.
Campy raised his eyebrows. With his limited English, he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d just heard. Yesterday, he’d been told that he was not getting called up.
Slowly, the words sank in and a smile as wide as a machete spread across Campy’s face.
An hour earlier, Glynn West had gotten a phone call from Pat Friday in Kansas City. In a game that day in Minneapolis, Wayne Causey, the A’s shortstop, had collided with the Twins’ Bob Allison and hurt his arm. He would be out indefinitely, and with nobody else to play short, the A’s only option, they said, was to reverse the decision made the day before and call up Campy. He would be the A’s starting shortstop in tomorrow’s game in Minnesota, facing pitcher Jim Kaat.
“Your plane leaves in an hour,” said Sully.
After Sullivan informed the team of Campy’s departure, teammates quickly surrounded his locker to offer congratulations, pounding him on the back, issuing thumbs-ups. They were happy for him. At the start of the year, they’d been slow to warm to him—his reputation and his reluctance to learn English kept them at a distance. But as the season progressed, he’d become popular with his co-players, not just because he was winning games for them, but also because they’d gotten to know him and appreciate his passion for the game. As happy as they were for him, they were also sad to see him go. They knew his loss would seriously jeopardize the team’s pennant hopes.
“He didn’t really belong in this league anyhow,” said pitcher Nicky Don Curtis.
After showering and getting dressed, Campy tossed his equipment into a bag. There would be no time to go to his boardinghouse and pack. He’d arrive in Minneapolis with only the clothes on his back and his equipment, minus his bats. He’d fetch his belongings when the A’s came to town next week.
An hour later, he was on a midnight plane to the big leagues.
“Campy will be up in a minute,” beamed Finley. “Hold on.”
Finley was in Chicago, listening to a radio broadcast of Campy’s first big-league game via phone from Kansas City and relaying the game by another phone to Benny Marshall, the sports editor of the News in Birmingham. This would be Campy’s first major-league at-bat. It was a day game, and he’d had only an hour of sleep.
“Here comes Bert Campaneris, leading off for the A’s,” intoned A’s announcer Monte Moore. “He’s just up from Birmingham. Lefty Jim Kaat looks in to get the sign.”
And then Moore’s voice started to climb. “Holy smoke!” he exclaimed.
Campy hit the first pitch thrown to him in the major leagues for a home run to left field.
“How about that!” yelled Finley. “Now, just how about that!”
There was a short pause, and then Finley came back on the line. “Can you hear me all right?” he asked.
“Just fine,” said Marshall.
“I’m hanging up now and I’ll call you back when Campy comes up again,” said Finley. “Man, we should’ve had that little fellow up here all along,”
Thirty minutes later, Finley called back, detailing Campy’s second at-bat, a sharp single to right. And then, after reaching first on a fielder’s choice in his third at-bat, he stole second. “They didn’t even make a throw,” extolled Monte Moore.
It was the seventh inning when Finley called back. Campy was coming up against Kaat again, the A’s trailing 3–1, a runner on first. Swinging at the first pitch again, Campy drove a shot to left… and over the fence. Monte Moore made the call. “It was an outside curveball, and he pulled it to left. What wrists!”
“This is baseball history!” exclaimed Finley.
The A’s won the game in eleven innings.
“Don’t you know that Campaneris story feels good?” said Finley after the game. “Don’t you know that Charlie Finley feels good? Say, this ought to make quite a story down there in Birmingham. Maybe they won’t be so mad at me for taking Campy away, huh? And they can see him again August 3 when we come and play the Barons.”
And then he recapped Campy’s debut: “Three hits, a stolen base, two homers, including one on the first big-league pitch he ever saw. What a day! What a game! What a ballplayer!”