This day in baseball: Roger Maris dies

Former Major League outfielder Roger Maris passed away on December 14, 1985, following a two-year battle with lymphatic cancer. Whitey Ford, Mickey Mantle, John Blanchard, Bill Skowron, Whitey Herzog, and Bob Allison served as pallbearers at his funeral.

Roger Maris

biography.com


This day in baseball: Mantle reaches 50

On September 18, 1956, the Yankees’ Mickey Mantle became just the eighth player in baseball history to hit 50 home runs in a season.  Mantle’s home run came in the top of the 11th inning off the White Sox’s Billy Pierce.  Whitey Ford and Bob Grim combined efforts to shut down Chicago in the bottom of the inning, thus sealing the American League pennant for the Yankees.

mickey-mantle


1958 Yankees Stars Sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game”

This was a lucky gem of a find.  In 1958, Yankees players Whitey Ford, Yogi Berra, Mickey Mantle, and Bill Skowron appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show along with Jack Norworth, writer of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.”  The group, along with the help of the crowd, sings the baseball anthem, followed up by a few questions from Mr. Sullivan.


“The Night Game,” by Robert Pinsky

I like the bald honesty of this piece.  As much as many folks don’t like to think about it, race and ethnicity have played a role in the history of baseball.  Fans sometimes, albeit unfairly, have preconceived notions about what a baseball hero ought to look like.  This poem is also beautifully written; full of imagery, evoking feelings of nostalgia.

*

Some of us believe
We would have conceived romantic
Love out of our own passions
With no precedents,
Without songs and poetry—
Or have invented poetry and music
As a comb of cells for the honey.

Shaped by ignorance,
A succession of new worlds,
Congruities improvised by
Immigrants or children.

I once thought most people were Italian,
Jewish or Colored.
To be white and called
Something like Ed Ford
Seemed aristocratic,
A rare distinction.

Possibly I believed only gentiles
And blonds could be left-handed.

Already famous
After one year in the majors,
Whitey Ford was drafted by the Army
To play ball in the flannels
Of the Signal Corps, stationed
In Long Branch, New Jersey.

A night game, the silver potion
Of the lights, his pink skin
Shining like a burn.

Never a player
I liked or hated: a Yankee,
A mere success.

But white the chalked-off lines
In the grass, white and green
The immaculate uniform,
And white the unpigmented
Halo of his hair
When he shifted his cap:

So ordinary and distinct,
So close up, that I felt
As if I could have made him up,
Imagined him as I imagined

The ball, a scintilla
High in the black backdrop
Of the sky. Tight red stitches.
Rawlings. The bleached

Horsehide white: the color
Of nothing. Color of the past
And of the future, of the movie screen
At rest and of blank paper.

“I could have.” The mind. The black
Backdrop, the white
Fly picked out by the towering
Lights. A few years later

On a blanket in the grass
By the same river
A girl and I came into
Being together
To the faint muttering
Of unthinkable
Troubadours and radios.

The emerald
Theater, the night.
Another time,
I devised a left-hander
Even more gifted
Than Whitey Ford: A Dodger.
People were amazed by him.
Once, when he was young,
He refused to pitch on Yom Kippur.


Quote of the day

The way to make coaches think you’re in shape in the spring is to get a tan.

~Whitey Ford