I did romanticize the story, stretching it into something to illustrate (albeit badly) a point I was making
about manners. I don’t know why that particular story came to mind. It wasn’t a very good example
and you’re right to point that out. My father’s behavior was appalling that day and, yes, his actions
speak volumes about the kind of person he was. Yet, I hardly think he was the first or last person to
sit in the stands with the attitude that it was his right to berate an umpire. I’m sure such behavior is
the topic of many psychological tomes on irrational acts committed by sports fans.
My father was an angry man, his actions were frequently indefensible, and I had a difficult relationship
with him. But, he was in his youth one heck of a great ball player. Perhaps one of the reasons he was bitter
was that due to bad timing, poor decision making, and just plain bad luck, he never realized his dream of
making the pros. There was that night in the early 1940’s playing in the minors when he was told to play center
field, although he was always a catcher. But he did the job, hitting four for four and making a miracle,
lost-in-the-lights, fly-ball catch. After the game two scouts from the New York Yankees came to his coach and
said they wanted him to come to New York to try out for the center field position recently vacated by
Joe DiMaggio who had left to fight the war. The coach explained that my Dad had told him just that evening
that he would be leaving the team as he had enlisted in the Navy and would soon be shipping out.
He was sent to Hawaii where he played on a Navy team. Fellow teammates were Pee Wee Reese, Dominic DiMaggio
and Yogi Berra. My Dad was first string catcher, Yogi was second string. There were a lot of well known or soon
to be well-known players on that team. Dad played with them for about six months before leaving to fly
search and rescue in the South Pacific.
After the war he returned home to resume his baseball career and was immediately signed by the Brooklyn Dodgers,
but he injured his arm, couldn’t throw and was released. By then he had a family to support and so let go of his dream.
He remained devoted to the game, though, and watched as his old teammates continued on their paths of glory.
He, poignantly, praised their accomplishments and was so proud to have known them.
He officiated hundreds of little league games and, just so you know, he was heckled. He said one time there was
this woman who kept yelling at him, “Hey, Mr. Umpire! Hey, Ump!” He said she just kept it up, but he wouldn’t
give her the satisfaction of looking at her. Finally, in exasperation, the woman yelled, “Hey, Ump! Your fly’s open!”
Sure enough, my Dad looked and his zipper was down. I remember asking what he did then. He said he turned
around, zipped up, thanked the woman and called the next play.
My father is now 87 years old and suffers from dementia. He doesn’t remember current events but can still
reminisce about the distant past. I’m going to call him this evening and tell him that a professional
umpire, a woman in the Baseball Hall of Fame, has written me to say that his behavior was intolerable on
that day at Dodger stadium. Your credentials will carry some weight and he’ll certainly pay attention. He
may even agree that you are right. For certain, he’ll get a kick out of it. Then he’ll probably say something like,
“if you can’t take the heat, keep outta the fire,” remaining incorrigible as ever.
Congratulations on your extraordinary career success and, again, thank you for writing
2 comments:
A wonderful story. Your father would be proud to read it. Thank you for writing it.
Meridith, I never expected my letter to you to become the subject of a separate post! But thank you for taking the time to address the concerns I brought up concerning your father's behavior at the ballpark, and my feelings that just because his language passed the "smell test," his overall attitude and lack of empathy for those around him, including (and especially) you, did not.
I enjoyed reading about his life and career, and I'm grateful he had the courage and sense of duty to serve his country honorably, even at the expense of fulfilling his own dreams. I hope you will thank him for me when you speak to him about my original comment. It's always interesting to me, being the constant student of human nature I am, to learn about the characters of the people who make baseball, and life in general, so endlessly fascinating and puzzling. Your father is obviously a complicated man with many disparate aspects to his character - no wonder you're conflicted! - and if my criticism of his behavior (and your missing the larger point in the re-telling of it) seemed harsh or humorless, I hope you understand where I'm coming from. I don't think of myself as overly sensitive, simply aware of the "price" umpires must pay, so often unfairly, for our efforts to make the right call in the face of endless barrages of disparagement and contempt. People do indeed have a right to enjoy themselves at sporting events, and yell and scream as enthusiastically as they want to IN SUPPORT of a player or team, but when it comes to demeaning and degrading the participants, I draw the line. Such behavior fosters an atmosphere of hostility and anger, and only serves to limit, not increase, real enjoyment of the spectacle. Your father's total indifference to the effect his conduct was having on YOU (and everyone else in his vicinity) makes my point for me.
Thanks again, Meridith, for sharing your thoughts and memories with us. After learning about your dad and hearing back from you and your friend TOM C, who wrote me a lovely letter in response to my original comment, I'm more aware than ever of how baseball can bring us together even as it tears us apart. One of the beautiful dichotomies that makes baseball the most amazing game on the planet!
In the interests of full disclosure, I must clarify your assertion that I'm "in" the Hall of Fame. My photographic image, with my name on a plaque on the wall, are indeed "there," on the second floor of the museum in Cooperstown as part of the wonderful "Women in Baseball" exhibit, but I haven't been inducted into that august body. I'm merely lucky enough to have had my picture and name chosen as representative of the efforts of many women who came before me and many more, hopefully, who will follow, down the path where baseball leads us. Only one woman, Effa Manley, has so far technically been inducted into the Hall (and that was only last year!) Her induction signaled a tectonic shift in the way women's contributions to baseball are measured by those in a position to reward them, and the Hall of Fame and the museum's director, Tim Wiles, are leading the way in that regard. Let's hope the steps taken by the Hall of Fame lead to more women being held up as examples of those who love the game and dedicate their lives to it. I sense you are one of us, Meredith, and for that, I thank you.
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