Comparing the love, the magic, of MLB to its current state
When I was a kid, I never spent time looking for Joe DiMaggio.
If you’ve ever heard Simon and Garfunkel’s song “Mrs. Robinson,” you know what I mean. The line “Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?” referred to heroes of the past.
I had my heroes.
They were, mostly, baseball players. At least regarding professional ball.
I grew up 20 miles from Morgantown, so my first love was WVU football.
But Mountaineer football players didn’t appear in newspaper boxscores every day. Baseball players did – at least through a gloriously long 162-game season.
I was an impressionable lad, as we were called back then. So when my uncle visited and went on and on about his New York Mets in a New Jersey accent, I was hooked – especially when the “Amazin’ Mets” (or “Miracle Mets”) shocked everyone by winning a World Series.
Tom Seaver was my hero. Ditto guys named Ed Kranepool, Cleon Jones, Bud Harrelson, Tommie Agee and Jerry Grote.
They were my heroes because they were in those boxscores. They were my heroes because each Sunday the local newspaper ran league leaders, and my eyes would tear through all the names to find my guys. They were my heroes because I’d buy pack after pack of baseball cards to find Jerry Koosman, dusted with the sugar of seemingly plastic bubble gum.
My heroes weren’t gone. They were all around me.
Yes, I had to be different and pick the Mets as my favorite team rather than the Pittsburgh Pirates, but understand that all the Major League Baseball players were heroes.
When we played wiffle ball in the backyard, everyone imitated Wilver Dornell “Willie” Stargell of the Pirates. We’d windmill our bats, just like Stargell, until the pitcher started his windup.
We’d mimic Juan Marichal’s high leg kick as a pitcher and Joe Morgan’s chicken wing flap as a hitter.
They were all heroes to me. They were all glorious.
I remember visiting my grandfather, who had been a good baseball player, spending his retirement by watching the Pirates on TV. I remember thinking, “That’s Nirvana.”
As with much of life, though, the ideal took punches to the gut. The love of the game for those in the MLB seemed to become secondary to the business of the game.
These days I’ll still enjoy the experience of a game at PNC Park. I still follow the Mets. I still enjoy watching a game here and there on TV.
Yet so much has changed. You see how baseball commissioner Rob Manfred cancels regular-season games via a lockout — with a smile! – and you not only notice change, but you feel it. Billionaires and multi-millionaires squabbling. We’re not talking about hot stove rumors, but how the game is on the back burner.
And it gives me pause. I remember how wonderful baseball has been to me. How magical it’s been through my life.
And indeed now I find myself wondering where that DiMaggio guy has gone.
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Mitch Vingle covered sports in West Virginia for 38 years. Follow Mitch on Twitter at @MitchVingle and be sure to check out the rest of Wheelhouse Creative’s website for your marketing and advertising needs. If interested, call us at 304-905-6005.