Razor Shines Weekend: Autographs, Memories and a Moment Made for No. 3

By the time Razor Shines Weekend was over, you wondered how the most iconic player in the history of the Indianapolis Indians franchise was doing.

You wondered how his emotions were faring, having seen his No. 3 go up on the Victory Field left field wall next to Jackie Robinson’s No. 42. “My main focus,” he would say of the number retirement ceremony, “was trying not to cry.”

You wondered how his endurance was holding up. Hey, the man turned 68 this summer. The three days had been a dizzying blur, from getting up at 6 AM for television and radio interviews to a pregame talk with the current Indians to sharing time with thousands of strangers. Except nobody is a stranger to Razor Shines, not in this town anyway. “They’ve treated me with the utmost respect and there’s no way I’m going to say no to anybody,” he said. And he wasn’t kidding. One couple even asked him to sign their infant daughter’s diaper. Another career landmark for Shines: First career baby bottom autograph. “I did,” he shrugged, “what they asked me to do.”

You wondered how his right hand was feeling. If he signs it, they will come … and come … and come. The three games the past weekend drew crowds of 11,501, 13,951 and 10,756, with the day two attendance being the Indians' first non-holiday sellout since Aug. 31, 2019, when Razor Shines was in attendance for Fan Appreciation Weekend. Many of those customers stood in line on the center field concourse as Shines autographed anything put in front of him and smiled for anyone who held up a cell phone camera. Call it the days of Shines and poses. “It cramped every once in a while,” he said of his overworked signing hand, “but that’s part of it. I get it. I’m going to sign for whoever asks me unless they tell me I’ve got to be somewhere else.”

It was yesterday once more. It was the 1980s and the Indians were winning four consecutive American Association championships and in the middle of it all was a guy wearing No. 3 – just like Babe Ruth. They shared so much success together, those Indians, part of it from a winning mentality. Shines told the story of how they would have their fingers measured for championship rings before the season. “Therefore, we had a purpose, we had a focus, we had a goal, and we went out and accomplished it,” he said.

For three days the name came rolling out of the public address system that has never lost its magic.

Rrrrrazor Shines!

What if his first name had been Larry or Bob or Jim? Would the aura have been so eternal? Because once you hear Rrrrrazor Shines, you never forget it, not even across two centuries. “I appreciate the name Razor,” he said. “It’s my dad’s middle name. My son, that’s his middle name. It was something that the fans gravitated to. The fact we had some success with it … I can’t explain it, I just know that I love it.”

Three days, then, in the life of the man with his number now on the left field wall:

FRIDAY

The Victory Field gates opened at 6 PM. By 6:05, the line was an hour long leading up to the autograph station.

They brought cards, books, jerseys, shirts, caps and gloves. Also, stories to tell and gratitude to express. One young fan symbolized the arc of time – a kid wearing a 2024 Paul Skenes No. 10 jersey holding out a retro No. 3 for Razor Shines to autograph.

What brought them here, to stand in line for a few precious moments with someone who played his last Indians game 31 years ago?

Erik and Amanda Montemer were here with their kids. “I grew up coming to baseball games with my family and he was always the highlight because the announcer would go Rrrrrazor Shines! I wasn’t really a baseball fan but that was the highlight of the game for me, and I grew up watching him. I kind of passed it on to my kids,” Amanda said.

Jack Smith, a Castleton deputy marshal back then who also worked security at Bush Stadium, was here, wearing a No. 3 jersey. “He was a hometown hero. A lot of it was the way they announced his name, too. That was exciting. And he was very friendly to the fans. His head was never bigger than the game, he was just down to earth,” Smith said. That still means something to Smith. “Hence, the jersey,” he said, pointing to his No. 3. “I would have never spent that kind of money.”

Cole and Amy Holdowal were here, Amy with a story probably similar to many waiting in line, about how excited her father had been to hear she would be meeting Razor Shines. “That’s the first game I ever took to you to, when he was playing,” he told her.

It was always so much about family with Shines. Tom Rawlinson was here with his son and grandson, so they could meet the man so close to the heart of this city. “He’s truly iconic,” Rawlinson said, “and he’s always got a smile on his face.” One man told Shines how his grandfather had season tickets at Bush Stadium behind a pole and could only see half the game. “But he said he could see Razor Shines.”

Long after 9 PM it was time to call it a night, but on Shines’ way back to the lobby he was stopped again and again and again on the concourse. Just one more, Razor. “Always a pleasure,” he would say to each request.

Behind him on the field, the Indians were on their way to beating Rochester. The grass in center field had been carefully groomed to show an enormous 3, which begged the question of how he ended up wearing that number in the first place. “That’s the number they gave me when I came to Indianapolis,” he said. “After my first year being the team MVP I didn’t want another number.”

One night was enough to see that whatever special bond he and the community created back then had not faded with time. Not an inch. Even for the kids lining up to meet a man whose career ended long before their birth. “That’s from their parents,” Shines said. “Bush Stadium, 16th Street, that’s the way it was. It was fun. Everybody likes a winner, and we won a lot. Their parents had a great time, and they want to pass that on to their kids and I happen to be a guy they remember, so they want to introduce that to their kids.

“I had a lady come up to me and said, ‘My father brought me out here when I was 12 years old, and he’s passed away. Just being here with you brought back memories of my dad.’

“That melted me.”

SATURDAY

Up in suite 315, it was Razor Shines story time. More than a dozen of his former teammates had come back for the occasion.

First baseman Randy Braun …

“If we were rallying late in the game, Razor would get excited in the dugout and start yelling out to the other team really loud, here we come, here we come! And then the next guy would get a hit, and he’d yell here we come, here we come! And the next guy would get a hit and drive in a run, and he’d yell it louder. Now the other team’s getting mad. We’re loving it. The next guy would get a hit, and his closing line would be I told you so, I told you so! If I tell you a chicken can pull a plow, hitch him up.

“We had to actually close the deal to get to the chicken and the plow.”

Pitcher Tim Barrett …

“We’re playing in Nashville in ’87 and that was the year Rob Dibble was pitching in Nashville. We had beaten him up all year, but Razor led off the top of the ninth, we were down 2-1, and Dibble threw three pitches by Razor. Razor walked back to the dugout and goes Guys we might as well get ready to eat because I can’t hit him and none of you are going to hit him. Dibble threw about 11 pitches in that inning and struck three people out. I’ll never forget that.”

Outfielder Alonzo Powell …

“We’re in Denver, old Mile High Stadium and we walk in, and the manager Joe Sparks had the lineup on the wall. Mile High, 5,000 feet, no hitter wants a day off. We go in there and Razor has the day off. Razor looks at the lineup, takes it off the wall and rips it up and throws it in the trash. Sparks comes back and says what happened to my lineup? Razor says, ‘Joe you’re not trying to win today, I’m not in the lineup. I don’t want a day off in Denver, it’s 5,000 feet, all you have to do is touch the ball.’

“He pinch hit in that game and hit a home run.”

Trainer Tim McCormack …

“We were down about 10-2 in Oklahoma City. We had fought back and were down by three runs. Razor up with the bases loaded and hit a grand slam. The fans were screaming all night because they wanted that pizza (if Oklahoma City won). They were booing their own team because Razor hit the grand slam on pizza night.”

Outfielder Ron Shepherd …

“Razor had this thing when we’d go to the stadium, we would get off the bus and he would get on the visitor’s dugout, and we would all drop our bags and if we had a three-game series he would announce to the opposing team We’re here to take two of three tonight! Naptown’s in the house! Who does that?

“Or like when Nashville was taking infield with Lenny Harris. Razor would yell out Lenny! I bet you kick the next three for a steak dinner tonight.

“He’s a special person. I don’t do a lot of baseball anymore but when we got the invitation, I said this is one I’ll go for. It’s not a big-league moment, it’s not a gold jacket in the NFL but Razor represents a leader. I’ve been a minister for 41 years and a leader to me is don’t tell me what you’re going to do, show me what you’re going to do.”

Outfielder Dallas Williams …

“I’m guessing it was 1987, the second championship. We were sitting in the dugout and we weren’t winning and he correctly predicted the ending and the score. I asked him how he knew we were going to do that. He said, ‘because we’re the Indianapolis Indians.’

“His teammates always thought he was the perfect teammate. He always did whatever he needed to do to make you feel a part of the team. It was always fun. When times got rough, he was always there to pick you up.”

Radio broadcaster Howard Kellman …

“In 1989 (future Hall of Famer) Larry Walker was a young player playing for us and you could see he was talented. There’s a man on first and two outs and Larry tries to bunt. Well, that’s not the time to bunt unless you’re trailing by several runs, which we weren’t. Razor Shines from the Indians dugout – this was in Oklahoma City – yells out hey, bunt one in the gap! And the message got across. You’re trying to hit the ball in the gap in that situation. But that was Razor. He was all about winning and helping a young player.

“I can tell you why the connection was so strong in the 80s. The fans loved him, and he reciprocated that love. A lot of people don’t handle success that well and stardom that well, but he loved the fans back. I think he was the most popular athlete in Indianapolis in those 1980s years. The Colts had just gotten here, and they weren’t very good. The Pacers weren’t very good, Reggie Miller didn’t come until ’87 and didn't dominate at first. The fact that he was the most popular athlete, the fact that he reciprocated the love he got from the fans and the fact we won championships, you put it all together and it was incredible.”

Indians board chairman Bruce Schumacher …

“When he lived in Indianapolis in the offseason, I would take him to play basketball with my buddies and me. We’d play shirts and skins. Razor being Razor, he’d be playing with three guys he never met before. They’d run up and down the court three or four times, and the guys on his team were better than anybody else. That’s just the way it was. He pulls this one kid aside and says, ‘Two things. He can’t guard you and he knows he can’t guard you.’ Another time I had him in an organized league and the other team is shooting free throws. Just before the guy shoots his free throw Razor yells out loud enough for everybody in the gym to hear it, ‘every missed shot is a pass to me.’”

Eventually it was time for those in suite 315 to head to the field and walk a blue carpet to their seats for the ceremony. Forty years after he played his first game with the Indians and 31 years after he played his last, Razor Shines’ biggest moment had come. No Indians player had ever seen his number retired, not in 122 years of the franchise.

But here was a man who had played nearly 800 games for Indianapolis and was part of 10 championships – division or league. Which is why the Indians presented him a ring this day with 10 diamonds.

When Shines took the microphone, he thanked his family (brother Felix Harper would later sing the national anthem before the game). He thanked his wife, Leann, and his kids. Thanked his teammates; many like him, now grandfathers pushing 70. “I loved those guys then and I love those guys now,” he said. Then he asked the crowd to stand for a special message to a 91-year-old man up on the suite level in a wheelchair. Max Schumacher, the heart and soul of this franchise, had made his way to Victory Field, even though going anywhere is not easy for him nowadays. “Razor kept asking me about it. I knew we had to get him here,” son Bruce said. “It’s just challenging with him at 91.” Shines looked up at Schumacher from the field and said, “If it wasn’t for you, there’s not a chance that I would be standing here today. I will forever – and I mean forever – love you.” Later back on the suite level, he would say of Max Schumacher, “he was the father I didn’t have at home.”

Tributes on the scoreboard. Among them Randy Johnson, whose Hall of Fame career had an early stop in Indianapolis and who mentioned one feature of being a teammate with Razor Shines: “There was never a dull moment in that dugout.”

Finally, the cover came off in left field and there it was on the wall. 3. Shines had one last thing to say.

“There’s no place like home. Thank you, Indianapolis.”

SUNDAY

One last game, one last line out on the center field concourse. A man brought a mug from the opening night of Victory Field for Shines to autograph. A couple came with a 33-year-old picture of a kid posing with an Indians player so long ago. The little boy was their son, the player Razor Shines.

So many memories, so many stories, so many No. 3 jerseys in the crowd, so many people saying thanks. What could it mean to a man in the autumn of life?

“It makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something,” Shines said. “It makes you feel the purpose you set out to do – and it wasn’t to have people wear your jersey – it means you did something right, and they appreciate it.”

The last of the gazillion fans to get his autograph was an elderly man with a couple of books to sign. The man explained that he and his wife were devoted fans back in the Age of Razor. His wife wasn’t doing so well now, and she’d love this.

“Thanks for the memories, Razor.”

Yeah, that pretty much summed up Razor Shines Weekend, when one athlete and an entire fandom of young and old could remember how they felt about one another.

Celebrations come and go, but No. 3 is out there to stay.