Today is the [two]-year anniversary of the death of Willie Stargell, and it marks an anniversary of sorts for me as well -- or for this site, more accurately.
The bat-twirling Pirates slugger with the infectious smile and the ridiculous train-conductor cap had been of my boyhood heroes. His death--at age 61, on the day the Pirates were to move into a new ballpark adorned by his statue--moved me more than most, as memories of watching "Pops" one storybook summer came flooding back. He was 39 and on his last good legs as a ballplayer, radiating joy every moment he played the game. Baseball, Willie's smile told me, was all about having fun. I was 9 and learning the game from my father and grandfather; I pinwheeled my bat in imitation, and exuded joy every time I picked up my mitt.
A few months before Stargerll died, my own grandfather, Bernard Jaffe, had passed away, and his death was still weighing on me when the news about Willie came. "Pop" spent endless hours with me and my brother during our summer stays in Walla Walla, playing catch, pitching to us, taking us to games, and regaling us with tales of Babe Ruth and Jackie Robinson as we watched ballgames on cable. The 1979 "We Are Family" Pirates, led by Stargell to a World Championship, were a mainstay of one summer's programming (we were a Dodger family, but the Dodgers were well on their way to a season in sub-.500 oblivion). Moved by Stargell's passing and, in the tradition of my grandfather, struck with a yearning to pass on a generation of baseball wisdom to those whose appreciations didn't go back as far, I wrote an obituary of sorts, and emailed it around to friends.
In doing so, I tapped into a urge I'd had for a few years to combine my writing and my design into a single project, a labor I could love. I began plotting a web site as an outlet for my increasingly frequent writing about baseball, and my Stargell obit was the cornerstone (though in retrospect it's a bit clumsy and half-finished). In two weeks time, I'd registered a domain name, opened a Blogger account, bought a book on web site design, and started construction of the empire which would make me rich and fam... oh, wait. It hasn't (and won't) make me rich and famous, but I've built something over the past [two] year[s] which I'm very proud of -- not every single word or every opinion offered, but not too bad either. A peek inside the head of one fan and a look at the ways we fans enjoy the game -- whether following our favorite stars or teams, taking in a night at the ballpark, or poring over the box scores. I hope you've enjoyed it; I know I have.
So happy birthday to me and to this site, and thank you to those who've supported it. As the Mayor of this here domain, let me declare this and all future April 9ths to be Wille Stargell Day. May we all take as much joy and offer as much inspiration as Willie did in our endeavors.
Anyway, there are a few links I want to pass on before I leave this behind and get back to talking baseball, where our agreements and disagreements are more benign, less charged. As Tim Robbins eloquently put it yesterday: "Isn't one of the greatest things about going to the ballpark that you can sit next to someone you don't agree about anything with and cheer for the same thing?''
First up is a letter to the Hall of Shame from Jules Tygiel, author of one of my favorite baseball books, Past Time, and a man who, from his writing on Jackie Robinson to his work on the recent traveling Baseball As America exhibit, has had a huge impact on my understanding of the game's social aspect. Tygiel's letter, which he posted on Baseball Primer, eloquently sums up my feelings on this imbroglio, so I'll rerun it here:
Dear Dale:
As the holder of a lifetime membership in the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Musuem, someone whose personal papers currently reside in the library at the Hall of Fame, and the author of the introductory sections (including those on patriotism and nationalism) to the Hall of Fame publication, Baseball As America: Seeing Ourselves Through Our National Game, I wish to strongly protest your imperious decision to cancel the commemoration of the anniversary of Bull Durham in Cooperstown, due to the opposition to the Iraq war voiced by its stars Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins.
The presidency of the Baseball Hall of Fame is, in effect, a sacred trust. By politicizing the Hall of Fame, you have violated that trust. Your position does not give you the right to impose your own political views on the events at the Hall to the exclusion of all others. One must assume that if people who protest American military actions are not welcome at the Hall of Fame, then Abraham Lincoln who opposed the Mexican War, Mark Twain who opposed the Spanish-American and Philippine Wars, and Martin Luther King, Jr., who opposed the war in Vietnam would not be welcome at the Baseball Hall of Fame. I also must assume that this letter jeopardizes my own future relationship with the Hall.
You write of Sarandon and Robbins, "We believe your very public criticism of President Bush at this important -- and sensitive -- time in our nation's history helps undermine the U.S. position, which ultimately could put our troops in even more danger. As an institution, we stand behind our President and our troops in this conflict." How was this institutional position arrived at? Were the employees or trustees polled? Were the people who pay dues to the organization asked? Were those enshrined consulted? Or is this the fiat of one person, yourself? Since when does the Hall of Fame take a position on political issues or voice open support for political figures and why is the opinion of the head a baseball museum more valid or valued than those of other public figures, like movie stars?
I doubt very much that the expressed opinions of two celebrities “put our troops in…danger.” But actions like yours place our basic constitutional rights in dire jeopardy and disqualify you from representing the American national pastime. If you cannot see clear to reverse your position, then hopefully you will have the decency to resign.
Sincerely,
Jules Tygiel
Tygiel wasn't the only renowned baseball writer who chose to distance himself from the Hall. Boys of Summer author Roger Kahn cancelled an appearance there. Hell, even Major League Baseball, which has shown its own PR ineptitude in the past, wasn't touching the Hall with a ten-foot pole: ""Major League Baseball has nothing to do with a Hall of Fame event,'' said Richard Levin, the MLB's senior vice president for public relations. "It is not our practice to make political statements.''
Next up is Steve Kelley of the Seattle Times, who drew a contrast between Iraqis celebarating their new-found freedom with Dale Petroskey's actions, calling the Hall president a "21st-century Joe McCarthy (the former senator, not the former manager)." Jeff Blair of Toronto Globe and Mail invoked McCarthy as well: "And you thought the only Joe McCarthy in Cooperstown was the legendary former manager? Let's get this straight: Cooperstown has admitted racists, drunks, gamblers and people with god knows what else in their closet. It's already admitted Reds, for Pete's sake. It has articles on display from guys who dabbled in illegal drugs when they played and, in the next decade, will start admitting a generation of power hitters and power pitchers, at least a few of whom used illegal steroids. It has, in short, admitted the worst and the best of the game and society — people whose tendencies leaned toward cross burning as well as trailblazing. It is representative."
Jeff Jacobs of the Hartford Courant and Ira Berkow of the New York Times both drew on speeches from Bull Durham in their responses. Jacobs mused that while "Crash Davis said there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter... Kevin Costner's character never told Susan Sarandon's character there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing free speech. Maybe Dale Petroskey got that part confused." Berkow uses Annie Savoy's quoting of Walt Whitman:
"I see great things in baseball, it's our game. The American game. It will repair our losses and be a blessing to us."'I see great things in baseball, it's our game. The American game. It will repair our losses and be a blessing to us. "
Baseball in many ways has indeed come to symbolize America. For example, the manager informs the umpire that he's an idiot. That is called dissent, a longstanding institution in this country, but one with which Dale Petroskey, president of the Baseball Hall of Fame, is not fully familiar...
Although Petroskey wrote "We believe," it was left unclear exactly who "we" were. According to Jeff Idelson, the Hall's public-relations executive, Petroskey said it was "a management decision," which means it was a royal "we" - Petroskey acting alone, apparently without consulting his board, which includes a handful of baseball people, including Bud Selig, George Steinbrenner, Joe Morgan, Frank Robinson and Tom Seaver. (Petroskey refused to take phone calls.)
Is Petroskey saying that it's O.K. to dissent as long as you don't have the large platform that people like Robbins and Sarandon enjoy? And what does it mean to "act and speak responsibly"? Should we all simply follow the opinion of others? Is that American? Aren't our soldiers fighting for freedom for the Iraqis, the chance to institute a democratic government like the one in this country that (oops) protects free speech?
Dan Le Batard of the Miami Herald spoke to a weary Robbins yesterday, who told him, "The danger in something like this is it sends the message that if you don't agree with the administration, you'll be punished. The people who say actors shouldn't opine about these things are the people who think we'll have public influence. Maybe they should strengthen their arguments instead of worrying about us. I worry people will get intimidated by backlash, won't participate in democracy and will just let the government do what it pleases. That's unhealthy in a democracy where we celebrate our differences of opinion.''
Finally, Chuck Carlson of Wisconsin's Oshkosh Northwestern (whaddaya mean you've never heard of it?) reminded us that all over the country, Petroskey looks out of step:" Perhaps Petroskey and his conservative cronies believe they’ve struck another blow for real Americans. But, in reality, he hasn’t. This is a move that will look to most normal American as the small-minded stunt it is and, perhaps, maybe he’ll still change what’s left of his mind. But don’t count on it. In the meantime, pick up “Bull Durham” and revel in it one more time. Because, despite the efforts of the lunatic fringe, it remains a great baseball movie and symbolizes, in so many ways, what this country used to be about and what it may be again someday."
In a free country such as ours, every American has the right to his or her own opinions, and to express them. Public figures, such as you, have platforms much larger than the average American's, which provides you an extraordinary opportunity to have your views heard -- and an equally large obligation to act and speak responsibly... We believe your very public criticism of President Bush at this important -- and sensitive -- time in our nation's history helps undermine the U.S. position, which ultimately could put our troops in even more danger. As an institution, we stand behind our President and our troops in this conflict.
Un-freakin'-believable. Petroskey, a former White House assistant press secretary under Ronald Reagan, is afraid that two intelligent, outspoken actors are more capable of endangering the United States' military personnel than President George W. Bush, the commander in chief who sent those forces to war. So afraid that he apparently believes that the constitutional rights of public figures should be curtailed; in a time of war, those rights apparently don't apply!
As I've said before, I have no intentions of turning this space into a political diatribe. But this action is downright cowardly. The Hall of Fame is a private institution. But it's also a tax-exempt non-profit one, and as an astute reader (posting under Sarandon's name but admitting that's not actually his or her identity) points out, such organizations are not allowed to engage in political activity. Petroskey and the Hall are out of bounds, but the irony of them going out of their way to pre-empt Robbins' and Sarandons' appearance and call attention to their views is that they've given them a far wider audience (in this circle, at least) than they otherwise would have received.
Robbins replied to Petroskey's letter with the following:
I am sorry that you have chosen to use baseball and your position at the Hall of Fame to make a political statement. I know there are many baseball fans that disagree with you, and even more that will react with disgust to realize baseball is being politicized.
To suggest that my criticism of the President put the troops in danger is absurd. ... I wish you had, in your letter, saved me the rhetoric and talked honestly about your ties to the Bush and Reagan administrations.
You invoke patriotism and use words like "freedom" in an attempt to intimidate and bully. In doing so, you dishonor the words "patriotism" and "freedom" and dishonor the men and women who have fought wars to keep this nation a place where one can freely express their opinions without fear of reprisal or punishment.
Amen to that. I've attempted to send a letter to the Hall of Shame via its contact page, but submitting the form is apparently producing an error at the moment. I'd like to think it's because so many baseball fans are outraged at this action, but I suspect it's just the Hall of Shame conveniently closing its ears to the public until the storm dies down. I'll keep trying to get through. [Postcript: submitting the form through the site's contact page via .org instead of .com worked. The above link has been changed to reflect that.]
Thanks to reader Andrew Blackistan for calling this story to my attention.
As you might expect, this piece has lately been absorbing most of the time I devote to this site, so I apologize to those of you who come here regularly expecting more content. Without trying to discourage anybody from checking in daily, things may remain a bit sporadic around here for the next week or so. The reason, and it's a happy one, is that I'm moving into a new apartment (still in Manhattan's East Village, now over near Tompkins Square Park) with my girlfriend of two and a half years. The move's a week from today, so I'll need to get crackin' with the packin'. Lord only knows how quickly I'll have Internet access, so if you're hungry for baseball content, be sure to check out my pals listed at left. A few of the recent highlights:
• Baseball Musings' David Pinto conducts an email interview with Bill James: "The game is very, very different from the game of 1977. . . it's almost hard to put a finger on any one thing. But probably the easiest thing to SEE is the change from a speed game to a power game, with the consequent change in the pace of the game and in the appearance of the game. The players of today simply don't LOOK like the players of the 1970s. They are much heavier, much thicker, much slower."
• Baseball Ranter Mike Carminati examines the 30th Anniversary of the Designated Hitter: "If the AL fans really want to see more .130 hitters, more power to them. Just don't say that it improves play, induces strategy, or eliminates one-dimensional players."
• The tireless Lee Sinins, who puts together the daily Around the Majors mailing list, is interviewed over at Netshrine: "I've been collecting about 250 articles a day during spring training. When the season starts, that number obviously gets a lot higher. If it's an AP article, if it's a feature article on someplace like ESPN.com or Sportsline.com, or if it's an item in the daily papers covering teams, if it's online, odds are good I collect it."
• Cub Reporter Christian Ruzich is back from a road-trip-enforced period of silence.
• In what we can only hope becomes a regular feature, Baseball Primer author and National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum Manager of Program Presentations Bruce Markusen has penned a lengthy column full of all sorts of great trivia on DHs, Opening Day highlights, and the amazing afro of Rick Sweet.
In addition to being the nadir of human achievement in recorded sound, "Cotton Eye Joe" is absolutely the worst part of attending a game at Yankee Stadium, and that includes the Liza Minelli version of "New York, New York" which accompanies a Yankee loss. While I'm generally more tolerant than the average purist of the music at the ballpark (I always smile when the grounds crew does their "Y-M-C-A" routine as they rake the infield after the fifth inning), I would gladly give it all up in exchange for the promise that I never have to hear the song again. I am an avid music buff with a CD collection that numbers in the thousands, running the gamut from the country blues yodelling of Jimmie Rodgers to the block-rockin' beats of the Chemical Brothers. Rarely do the twain meet, but when they do, as in "Cotton Eye Joe," the result is an aesthetic disaster. Especially when the synthetic bagpipes come in. Yes, bagpipes. Are you with me yet, brothers and sisters?
Shortly after the 2001 World Series, I received a couple of emails from a woman looking for info on "Cotton Eye Joe" who must have come across my site because I mentioned the song here. Apparently, she didn't read me too closely or she would have understood my feelings on the matter:
I hope you can help me. Everytime I go to Yankee games, I too stay at least through when they play "Cotton-Eyed Joe." My boyfriend loves this song and he loves the guy with the cowboy hat who dances to it in the glass booth. Do you know who this guy is and how I could get an autographed picture of him for my boyfriend?
Somehow I managed to summon up enough willpower to dismiss the email as a joke, and restrained myself from firing off a sarcastic response. But now that I have a name to attach to the dastardly phenomenon of "Cotton Eye Joe," I'm going to begin stockpiling ammunition. With all of the problems in the world today, it may seem like a trivial thing to take aim upon. But I'm sending out a sincere FUCK YOU to John Luhr for inflicting this upon us. I'd like to make you eat that cowboy hat, pal.
