If you attended the opening game of the 1980 World Series, you may have seen Barry Bremen. Then again, maybe you didnt.
Bremen was the seventh umpire standing at home plate as the Phillies and Kansas City Royals stood along their respective sidelines listening to the national anthem.
I know what youre thinking: There are only six umpires assigned to postseason games.
Exactly
Bremen was a fake, a gate crasher who made it onto the field at Veterans Stadium, exchanged knowing winks with the other umpires and a few players and got away without being caught. It was part of an amusing scam that earned Bremen the nickname The Great Impostor.
Bremen died June 30 of cancer at the age of 64, but he was a fun guy who became famous for acting out the fantasies of many sports fans. He pulled off dozens of stunts -- including crashing the warm-ups at the 1979 NBA All-Star game and posing as a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader -- but he considered slipping onto the field at the 1980 World Series his No. 1 thrill.
This was always my fantasy, the World Series, Bremen said that night when I finally tracked him down. I was a little apprehensive about it because the World Series is such a big event. Everyone involved is uptight. The mood is understandably tense.
The other things Ive done have been at all-star games and practice rounds at the U.S. Open and they were ideal situations for a guy like me because there is not a lot of pressure. Guys are loose and more inclined to go along with the joke. The World Series is serious business. Fortunately, everyone who knew what was going on got the joke.
Bremen was a wealthy manufacturers rep from suburban Detroit. He also was a major sports fan who wasnt content to sit on his couch and watch the big events on TV. He wanted to be there. More than that, he wanted to be part of the action.
A Detroit sportswriter, Jim Hawkins, introduced us. He told me of Bremens plans to slip into the umpiring crew that night at the Vet. I didnt think he could pull it off, but Bremen proved me wrong.
It isnt that hard to get an umpires uniform, but there is a lot of security on the field for a World Series game. Somehow Bremen managed to slip through. (I always suspected he was aided by George Brett, the Kansas City third baseman, who was a buddy of Bremen.) Bremen refused to divulge exactly how he did it, but he walked out of the tunnel behind home plate with the other umpires and stood with them through the pregame ceremonies.
One umpire, Dutch Rennert, recognized me, Bremen said. He said, Hey, youre that sports impostor. He started to laugh. After the national anthem, he leaned over and said, OK, you better get out of here. I said, Yeah, youre right, so I went back up the tunnel. No one said a word.
Over the years, we stayed in touch. Bremen often bemoaned the fact that things were getting tougher. He tried to crash pregame warm-ups at a Major League All-Star game and was literally chased off the field by Dodgers manager Tom Lasorda. One of his last stunts was accepting an Emmy Award for Betty Thomas of Hill Street Blues. (He got to the microphone while she was still making her way to the stage).
I last spoke to Bremen about 10 years ago. He had given up the impostor business. He said the times made it impossible. Security at all major events was much tighter and for good reason. When a crazed fan attacked Monica Seles with a knife during a tennis match in 1993, everyone understood the rules had changed.
These are dangerous times. People like Bremen are no longer a laughing matter. Even those people who got the joke understood it couldnt be allowed any longer. It just wasnt safe.
Its sad, you know, Bremen said. Where has the fun gone?
E-mail Ray Didinger at viewfromthehall@comcast.net
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