MORE THAN 'JUST A GAME'

     I have been 'fraternizing with the enemy'.  That is to say that I as a confirmed Boston Red Sox fan am reading a book about  . . .(gasp) the New York Yankees.  To further complicate matters, I have to acknowledge that I am enjoying it.  

    Driving Mr Yogi:Yogi Berra, Ron Guidry, and Baseball's Greatest Gift celebrates the evolving friendship and affection of these two Yankee players of different generations.  (I almost wrote 'former Yankees' but according to them, there likely is no such person.)  Along the way, there are anecdotes galore about the team and its storied, legendary existence.  It's an easy read and Yogi Berra is certainly a 'treasure' for those who love the game.  For me, as enjoyable as the "Baseball" dimension is, there is another thread that has drawn me to this 'fraternizing with the enemy':  long standing friendships, especially male friendships.

   So, I was not surprised that this book reminded me of another somewhat similar baseball book , about former Red Sox teammates.  And that is the title; The Teammates:A Profile of a Friendship, written a few years ago by the late David Halberstam.  Four men, legendary players each ---Ted Williams, Johnny Pesky, Bobby Doerr and Dominic DiMaggio--- were particularly close during their playing days in the 1940's and 1950's and remained so in the years after their retirement.  Williams called them "My guys".

   Someone aptly noted that Halberstam (who also wrote Summer of '49 about the pennant race of that year when the Red Sox lost to the Yankees in the last game of the season) used "sports as a mirror to reflect the larger society."  Consequently, whether or not one cares for the game of baseball, The Teammates is a powerful story.  Halberstam wrote that "they were all special men--smart, purposeful, hardworking--and they had seized on baseball as their one chance to get ahead in America."

   Friendships are precious.  Men are often criticized for a presumed inability to be sensitive and talk about matters more profound than the latest scores, politics, cars, and other topics external to their souls.  While the book is a story of four men whose friendships originated in the game, they also transcended the stereotypes and remained close throughout their lives.  Doerr, now 93 years old, is the sole survivor of the four.  The dustjacket contains a succinct summary in calling the book "a profoundly human story of four great ballplayers who have made the passage from sports icons . . .to men dealing with the vulnerabilities of growing older.  At the core of the book is the friendship of these four very different but extraordinary men, the key players in a remarkable Boston Red Sox team, who stayed close to each other for more than sixty years."

   Many descriptive words have been written about Ted Williams   . . . profane (and there are several instances of this within the book),vain, intelligent, perfectionist, tempestuous, domineering. . . and they are largely correct.  Yet, Halberstam noted, "Bobby Doerr loved Ted Williams.  He knew all his faults and loved him just the same. . . .It was a cherished friendship for both of them. But that did not mean it was ever easy."  Then there was a time in 1961 when Williams uncustomarily let down his guard and his bravado. He showed Doerr and another  Red Sox scout parts of his childhood and Doerr remembered "all you could feel was the sadness of it. The sadness of that little boy, and the sense that it had weighed on him so heavily for so long."   And the often-arrogant Williams turned to Dominic DiMaggio for support in later years.

   Along with a special male friendship, the author also held up his mirror to the matter of aging in our society.  He wrote that     growing old in America, the country of the young is never easy, not even for those who have been successful in their lives and can afford the best medical care."  At 45, DiMaggio   was diagnosed with Paget's disease; Doerr had to  stop playing because of orthopedic problems and then his wife's MS returned, followed by two strokes.  Williams's physical health remained strong for a long time but there were complicated and volatile relationship problems.  Rather dramatically his health worsened and in October                  2001, Pesky and DiMaggio travelled to Florida to visit  the dying Williams. Doerr was unable to make the trip because of his wife's fragile health. Halberstam noted, "It had all come down to this one final visit.  They had once felt immortal, so sure of their youth  and their strength and their futures, so immune to the vagaries of age."
There is a warmth and poignancy in the account of Dominic DiMaggio's singing to an appreciative  Williams, no longer "The Kid", as sportswriters had once called him.

   For the baseball fan, there are numerous anecdotal nuggets in the book, but the larger story is an enduring and touching one that can appeal to someone who has never heard the umpire call,
"Play Ball !"

   Satchel


( A tribute to the memory of my undergraduate fraternity 'little brother', Fred L. Sigmon , who died last week, apparently from long-delayed complications from an automobile accident in 1960.  And, in appreciation for the men who have been important 'teammates' for me along the way.)