Josh Raup is
The Minister of Strat Mayhem
Volume II, Number 3
July, 2002
Recent Call Ups
It’s been a real bad last month for
baseball. No, it’s not about the games,
or about the players, or management, or the contract talks. No, baseball has lost some precious members
of it’s vast family. Three people have
died of late, three deaths that have in some ways shaken baseball to its core.
The
headlines shouldn’t have read “Ted Williams dead at 83.” Instead, they should have read “Ted Williams
called up to the BIG league.” I can
think of no better way to describe his passing, in a way that reflected his
life, and passion for all things baseball.
Ted Williams was the greatest hitter ever, period. And he was the most scientific of any hitter
ever. No one, but no one could talk
about the science of hitting like Ted did.
I
called the good Doctor to offer my condolences, as he, and the rest of the city
of Boston, and baseball fans everywhere are mourning his call up to a higher
league. AS always, we got to talking,
and the panel discussion that Williams participated in that was on ESPN. The only thing I clearly remember about that
panel was Williams and Tony Gwynn talking about hitting, and I mentioned this
to the Doc.
“Yeah, that was
something. They were like aliens or
something. They had their own language
when it came to hitting. No one else
could understand what they were talking about, but they knew exactly what the
other was talking about. A sort of
professional jargon, that not even the other pros on the panel could
follow. That’s special.”
Of
course, Williams is only the latest baseball death to shock us. First we lost Hall of Fame broadcaster Jack
Buck. Few people in this world have a
voice that just says baseball. For over
40 years Jack had done St. Louis games on the radio. He was an icon in a city that has a strong baseball
tradition. “Jack was special,” the Doc
said. “His was a voice that was
baseball to thousands upon thousands of people over the years. Like Vin Scully, or Ernie Harwell, or Mel
Allen. They made listening on the radio
to a ball game something special. They
make you see the game through their voice, in a way lost to many in this day
and age of television. It’s an end of
an era fast approaching.”
But
perhaps the most shocking death of all was that of St. Louis Cardinal’s pitcher
Darryl Kile. The sudden and seemingly
random death of Kile shocked everyone, and rocked a city already mourning the
loss of Jack Buck. Forget the fact that
I have Kile on two Strat teams. Here
was guy, about my age, who just dropped dead in his hotel room. Kile was only 33, and in the prime of his
playing years. He was on a strong
franchise, one that is a post season contender. Just one more bit of proof that sometimes, it doesn’t matter who
you are, or what shape you’re in, or what you do for a living, death can strike
at any time.
Kile
gave me a sort of triple whammy when he died, and I needed to talk to the Doc
about it. “Doc,” I began, “This Kile
thing has me bugged.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I mean, we’re about the same age, and he
just died. Pow.”
“Ah. That whole mortality thing creeping in. It’s perfectly natural. You just have to learn to accept that we
don’t always have control over when or how we go. We have to learn to roll with these hits, and carry on as best we
can.”
“OK, I see your point
about that, but it doesn’t solve my dilemma about what to do with Kile in my
leagues.”
“Well, that’s a
different story entirely. How do you
feel about it?” Uh-oh, a psychobabble
question, I’m done for.
“I don’t know
really. I mean, I could be cold and
mercenary about it, and trade him now while he still has some value.”
“Yes you could. Are you going to?”
“No, I don’t think
so. I probably won’t even cut him next
year, instead I’ll wait until he’s gone for good in Strat-O.”
“Ah, a sort of
memorial.”
“Yeah in a way. My small memorial to the guy, keeping him in
baseball, in some form, for an extra year and a half. I guess it’s a small way of saying he’s not really gone just yet,
not until he no longer has a strat card.” (Note to teams in my leagues: Kile is
not available)
“Well I suppose you’re
plenty busy with all the mourning in Boston.”
“Not
really. I’ve been rather unwanted since
the end of spring training. Though I do
still have sessions with Dan Duquette ranting that he’s a great GM, I just
don’t get the traffic in the office I had before. I can’t afford my balloon trip around the world now. And I was so looking forward to that.”
“Really? I figured with all that curse talk in the Spring,
you’d have plenty to deal with.”
“Not really. Though I did hear an interesting take on the
Curse today. Get this…Ted Williams was
born in 1918. The last year the Red Sox won a World Series. This guy claimed that Ted was God’s pay off
for not winning another series. He gave
us the greatest hitter ever instead of another World Series. He claims that now that Ted is gone, the Sox
will win it all this year.”
“Wow. I’ve heard all sorts of takes on this, but
that’s a new one on me. Think it has
any merit?”
“Got me. Then again, I bought into the whole exorcism
thing, so who knows?”
I
let the Doc go after that, he actually had a paying appointment, and I didn’t
want to ruin his ballooning dream.
Besides, I had much to digest.
The Curse not being about the Babe, but about Ted? That’s a stretch from a Bosox fan. Especially a BoSox fan. But still, is it mere coincidence or
something more? Was Ted God’s pay off
for no more World Series titles? Or is
all just some deranged rambling? Only
time will tell.
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