t was a Friday in 1958, and Joe Hayden was in the young-executive phase of his career, zipping around the country for his father's finance company. Returning home hot and tired at the end of a long summer week, he was headed upstairs to put on a pair of shorts when his wife, Lois, mentioned that their two oldest boys, Jay and Billy, were playing a knothole game at the neighborhood park. He really ought to go, she said. He resisted, but Mrs. Hayden can be as persuasive as her husband and probably trickier. She already knew how the conversation would unfold at the ballgame where the Mount Washington Cubs were getting routed as usual. "How do you like it so far?" she asked after a couple of pitiful innings. "This is horrible," Hayden answered. "If I just worked with these kids on weekends, they'd be a lot better." "That's what I thought you'd say," countered Mrs. Hayden. "That's why I volunteered you. The manager is getting transferred to St. Louis, and I told him you'd take over the team tomorrow morning." Hayden went on to coach that bunch for a few years until dropping down to his next son, John, and coaching him for a few years until once again dropping down to coach his fourth son, Tom, whose team, competing in a knothole district on the east side of Cincinnati, was called the Braves.

Since there were no more sons after Tom to divert his attention, Hayden solicited coaching help from his old Miami University buddy, George Graff, and worked the Braves into something special. The boys won several city knothole championships, but when they became high school age, they found themselves measured against a higher standard -- the top dog of local amateur baseball, Wilson Freight. Coached by a local legend named Hal Pennington, Wilson Freight won the Connie Mack national championship in 1968. "I'll never forget the first time we beat Hal Pennington's team," reflects Hayden. "I was coaching our 17-year-olds and a feisty guy named Kenny Elam was coaching our 18s. The managers were all together at an organizational meeting before the season, and after that meeting I heard Pennington say to Kenny, 'Hell will freeze over before Midland beats me.' well, my team ended up playing Wilson Freight that summer on a Friday night and shut them out, and then Kenny comes back on Saturday with Bill Early [who later pitched very briefly for the St. Louis Cardinals]. The game was decided when Earley tagged up from second and scored on a deep fly-out to center field. I can still hear Kenny as he walked off the field yelling, 'Hey, Hal, you'd better get some ice skates!' That's when I knew our team had arrived." By 1975, Midland -- the team was now nicknamed the Redskins in honor of Miami U. -- had begun attracting players outside its knothole district, won a state championship and, perhaps most notably, forged the all-American identity for which it is now widely known. Most of Midland's eventual major-leaguers in those days were pitchers, the likes of Charlie Leibrandt, Chris Welsh, Rich Dotson, Bill Long, Jeff Russell and Roger McDowell. By the 1980s, some of Hayden's sons and former players were coaching their own teams, and he had established a farm system that included an entry at virtually every age level. The program's most conspicuous achievement was its prolific production of major-leaguers. One was New Richmond's Todd Benzinger, who eventually played with numerous major-league teams, including the Reds. And then there was a pretty good infielder named Barry Larkin, who played second base for the Redskins because they already had a shortstop. It wasn't until 1984 that the Redskins won their first Connie Mack World Series with a team conspicuously lacking in future professionals. They repeated in 1985, by which time Hayden's boys had also established an enduring reputation for good behavior in the World Series town of Farmington, New Mexico, where visiting players are houseguests of host families. (It helps that Papa Joe makes every Midland player write a thank-you letter to his host family after returning home.) In 1986, Hayden was eager for Midland to become the first team to win three consecutive national championships, his hopes pinned largely on a fun-loving, 16-year-old center fielder named Ken Griffey, Jr. That year the Redskins made it as far as the finals, where they came up short against California. After winning a national title in 1989, Midland was stopped in 1990 by Dallas, but in 1991, with Larkin's brother Stephen at first base, the Redskins brought home their fourth championship in eight years. Their successful defense of the title in 1992 handed Hayden his fifth first-place trophy in nine seasons and his second chance to make history by winning three straight. The team with which Midland went after its three-peat in 1993 was one of those not endowed with a megastar, but it was up to the taske nonetheless, furnishing its manager with the sort of achievement on which he could step down satisfied, if only there were something better to do.... Story adapted from "The Real Boys of Summer" by Lonnie Wheeler. Published August 1998 in Cincinnati Magazine.

Last Updated May 14, 2004