ICYMI Kennedy: Two-way man Clyde 'The Camel' Harris played almost forever

THE CAMEL'S STILL RUNNING

Originally published July 9 1991

By Patrick Kennedy

Kingston Whig-Standard

KINGSTON, Ont. _ The friendliest, funniest, flakiest camel ever shoed with spikes is still swinging from the hoofs these days, still hitting ropes and takin' 'em downtown, still clowning, cutting up -- still thirsting for action in a game he pursues with refreshing childlike enthusiasm.

Clyde Harris, a.k.a. Camel, is not over the hump yet as far as his remaining days on a ball field are concerned. Not by a long shot.

Roy Campanella, the great Brooklyn Dodgers catcher, said "you have to be a man to play in the big leagues but you have to have a lot of little boy in you, too." Campy abided by that simple theory and copped three Most Valuable Players awards before a car accident rendered him a permanent spectator.

That motto is also one practised by the indefatigable, comical Camel, whose insatiable apcal Camel, whose insatiable appetite for the Sunshine Game remains, at age 43, unsatisfied -- and is today the responsibility of an outfit in Orillia. That uncomplicatingly constructive credo has, in 26 summers of senior ball, earned him legions of admirers. People seemed to warm to him easily.

"I try to derive as much fun out of baseball -- all sports actually -- as I possibly can," he said from Orillia, his home since taking a teaching job there in 1976. "I mean first and foremost the idea is to have fun."

Promoted to Kingston's senior team in 1967, Camel fast became a fan favorite, combining raw, exciting skills with a light-hearted but dedicated attitude. And if having the odd laugh was part of the plan, inducing others to do likewise was his specialty.

"Camel's one of the funniest and most competitive guys I've met in baseball," remembered Bob Elliott, the Toronto Sun reporter who covers the Blue Jays. His father, also named Bob, directed Kingston senior teams for years. "Before road trips, guys would fight to see who'd get to ride with Camel and Nick (Guy) White. Nick would tell the stories and Camel supplied the wit."

White, the team's slugging, glove-slick first baseman, was already an established star on the club when the 17-year-old rookie was elevated. Renowned for tagging monikers on teammates, White soon hung 'Camel' on the bespectacled greenhorn, after the cud-chewing beast Clyde from an old Ray Stevens song.

"What sticks out the most was how young he was but yet how capable he was as a ballplayer," said White. "He was young and fresh but he could hit, and hit with plenty of power. He was also a fine outfielder and a great competitor. Camel came to play but he also made the time we spent on the diamond a lot more fun. It was a pleasure to play with him.

"I remember one game in the Ontario playdowns in Hamilton," he continued. "Camel sat the bench throughout the game which really bothered him. He got called upon to pinch-hit in the top of the ninth and cracked one completely out of the park and into the gurders of Ivor Wynne Stadium. He had a point to prove and he let his bat do the talking."

Elliot, too, recalled that memorable moonshot. "A few jaws dropped open after he hit it," he said.

On a team of characters, Camel was chief cut-up, a respected, loosey-goosey type of guy that teammates depended on -- whether to break up the clubhouse with a line or rake someone over the coals the next. The word for that is leadership.

Today, Clyde continues to be a key cog in a ballclub's wheel. For the past 15 seasons he's been the heart and soul of the Orillia Majors. At an age more suited to honing a golf swing, his "skills and savvy have, if anything, improved," according to current manager Ralph Cooke.

"He's just amazing." He's consistently been in the top three on our club in home runs, average and runs batted in, and if anything I feel he's become a smarter, more selective hitter than ever.

"But his true worth," Cooke continued, "is exemplified in the way he inspires and prepares and always keeps his teammates in the game. You won't see that kind of leadership in next day's line score."

A check of the line scores and recent team statistics, however, does find the Camel's name second in team batting (.419) and among the top three in a few other categories. The slender, 6-foot-1 outfielder has also powdered three pitches off the roof of the old barn beyond the centre field fence in the quaint Orillia ballyard.

Camel attributes his longevity at both high levels of baseball and hockey to the "different outlook" on life he acquired a few years back.

"For one thing I stopped drinking about six years ago and I'm a little wiser when it comes to my diet," he said, referring to a daily salad lunch. "I also keep busy. I'm no triathlete but I do play a lot of ball slo-pitch as well and I ride my bike everywhere and I still play a bunch of hockey. I played in three leagues last year and something like 115 games."

A camel on skates? You bet, and goalie skates to boot.

After graduating the ranks of Kingston minor hockey, netminder Harris starred five seasons (1970-75) with the Queen's Golden Gaels shinny squad. He spent another seven winters with the Orillia Terriers of the Ontario Senior A Hockey Association, earning two team MVP awards. On two occasions he's been nominated as that city's athlete of the year.

"I still play in the Queen's alumni game every year; it's a riot. All those guys with no teeth and no hair -- just like me," chuckled the white-whiskered warrior.

His favorite memory remains the '67 team that captured the Ontario Baseball Association Senior A crown in its first season.

"It was like the World Series to me," said Harris, who played on two other Kingston provincial champions, in 1973 and 1975. "I learned so much from that team, and you wouldn't do any better than playing for coaches Bob Elliott. and Cliffy Earl. Whatever bad habits you had those two got rid of them in a hurry."

He rattled off names from the '67 roster and paused to reflect on the recent death of ex-teammate Billy Kyle, the fourth member of that club now remembered posthumously; managers Elliott and Earl and pitcher Keith Weese being the others. "There are no guarantees. It's tough to hear about that kind of thing. Billy was a good catcher, and he always took time to teach me things."

Much of his athletic success he said he owes to a supportive family -- a sister, Susan, and his parents Lavere and Bill.

"I can never remember them not being there for me," he said. "Whether I had good games or bad ones the reception was always the same -- positive and supportive. You couldn't stay down for too long with people like that long with people like that around."

As a boy, Clyde, the oldest of two adopted children, was a young man perpetually on the go, charging from place to place at one speed -- full throttle.

"He was a mover," said his mother from the kitchen of the family's brick home on College Street. "When Clyde was a little boy he'd run everywhere. One cold morning he left home without his jacket. I phoned the principal and he said 'Don't worry about Clyde, he doesn't need a coat. That boy runs to keep warm.'

"The thing about Clyde is that he likes a game for the sake of the game. He's one of these guys who will play until he can't run."