A friend sent me this book with the note "our dads would have fit right in with these guys." These guys, Ted Williams, Johnny Pesky, Bobby Doerr, and Dom DiMaggio are wonderful men whose friendship is warmly told in the book Teammates by the redoubtable David Halberstam.
Everyone knows Teddy Ballgame, a man chosen by the Gods to be the best hitter of the 20th century and equally cursed with a hyperkinetic personality that drove away all but his most steadfast and patient and loving friends. The others, Doerr, DiMaggio, and Pesky were quintessentially of their time. DiMaggio and Pesky rising from immigrant roots to scrap their way into professional baseball. Yes, Dom is Joe D's brother but don't be fooled, Dom made his own way on his own talent. Doerr's family life was supportive, nurturing, and true to form, Bobby Doerr grew from those roots to become a solid, balanced man.
Each man served in WWII. Williams served in WWII and Korea. Each knew sacrifice and sadness. Perhaps, the penultimate lesson in the book comes from this story. The boys were playing for the Red Sox versus the Cardinals in Game 7 of the World Series. The score was tied 2-2 in the bottom of the 8th. Enos Slaughter of the Cardinals scored the winning run from first on ball that was hit in the gap between center and left. Pesky, the shortstop, cut-off a weak throw from a replacement outfielder and turned to see Slaughter near the plate. Surprised to see Slaughter so close to home plate, he held the ball and extra instant and threw to the plate late. Slaughter had scored. The press seized upon the moment and charged Pesky with holding the ball too long thereby allowing Slaughter to score and the Red Sox to lose the World Series.
For more than 50 years Pesky accepted the blame rather than pass the blame off to a teammate. The game isn’t fair; sometimes it’s good to you and sometimes it isn’t. Pesky’s friends explain the play. Pesky did all he could they say. Pesky refuses to comment. This loyalty, this code of honor, this devotion to an ideal that is larger than the person exemplifies the love and passion with which these men played ball and led their lives. Halberstam’s prose is equally devoted and affectionate throughout.
My friend is right about our dads. They lived by the same qualities. They shared experiences and hardships and matured in circumstances much more difficult than their baby boomer children. Perhaps viewing times past from a distance helps me understand what wasn’t recognizable when I was standing next to it.
When I listen to the relativist, hateful, spiteful vitriol spewed by the post moderns I think to myself how could I have thought that some drunken lout, half-assed poet in Los Angeles had more to offer to me than men who lived through the Depression, fought in a War, found careers, and raised families? Guys who knew first hand that life was difficult and unfair and disappointing yet labored and loved and laughed and learned. Guys who looked disappointmet in the eye and didn't blink. As their generation passes from this time on the planet let's hope books such as Teammates can help us reconnect.
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