Smak-O-Matic
Volume I, Number 4
October, 2001
Life Took Over
By Steve Felson
It has been a long time since I have sat at this keyboard to form sentences for your enjoyment. When I ask myself why, I realize that I let life take over. Many nights, my wife would ask me, “When are you gonna write another one of those Strat-O things?” My father, hundreds of miles away in Florida would call or email me the same question. To each, I would utter that vile word…Tomorrow. To them and to you, I apologize. I let life take over.
Baseball has been at the core of my heart since I was old enough to blow my $1 allowance on a pack of Topps baseball cards; which bought a few packs back in those days. My dentist cringed at the start of each baseball season with the thought of those pink planks of gum being shoveled one after the other into my mouth. But there was no greater joy than hopping on my green Schwinn with the banana seat and racing my friend to the corner store. We bought our packs, sat on the concrete and uttered those magic words, “Got it; Need it; Trade ya’?” Baseball was all I thought about. My little league career was non legendary. Yet, I played on with my multi-colored first baseman’s glove no matter what position I was fielding. My friends and I drew imaginary lines on abandoned tracts of land to create Shea Stadium or pretended we were in Oakland or California. Life never once took over.
When I moved from New York to Florida, I had no friends. One night, I read in the back of Baseball Digest about this board game called Strat-O-Matic. I spent what I had and borrowed the rest and a few weeks later it arrived at my doorstep. The fondest memories of my pre-teen years were of sitting on the floor of my room playing a 26-team season all by myself; making trades between teams; witnessing a 15 game winning streak by obscure White Sox pitcher Ed farmer while superstars like Jim Rice went 0-20 at the plate. All of this was done in a more innocent time. On Fridays and Saturdays, the games were set to the backdrop of my 9” black and white playing such classics as Dallas, The Dukes of Hazard, The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. Life never took over.
Even as I moved into high school, I still played the game. The cover of my Strat-O box was permanently propped against the side of my bed like the Green Monster in Boston. I would spend hours pouring over statistics and projecting full season numbers. This was way before the age of the personal computer, so all calculations were done by hand. I made little baseball cards for each player and kept my league leaders updated. I even hired my sister as assistant league statistician. Looking back, it was one of the last activities we shared before we both were stupid enough to grow up. High school years are hard on a young boy. I still had my Strat-O, but life started to take over.
Many years later, after experiencing the trials and tribulations of colleges (yes, there was more than one) and jobs and moving from Florida to North Carolina and back to Florida and back to North Carolina and even South Dakota, I ended up in Texas (for a job) where I did not know a soul. One day, one of my coworkers asked me if I had ever heard of a game called Strat-O-Matic. Of course I had, I replied…much to his surprise…and he asked me if I wanted to join a “by mail” league. I jumped at the chance. I hadn’t even realized that the game had found a home on computers. I had no idea people had formed alliances with others who lived across state’s and even country’s borders. I realized that I had lost touch with baseball. In my first year as manager, I actually traded away Todd Helton and Neifi Perez for guys who aren’t even on my team anymore. But , you know, I am finding that Strat-O isn’t about having Todd Helton help you win the pennant or even about finishing second or third. It’s about discovering that fountain of youth; about opening the artery that leads to the core of your heart where baseball resides; about not letting life take over.
So why, you ask, do I return to Smak-O-Matic with this sappy, Oprah-like diatribe about my youth? I’ll tell you why. The purpose of these articles has always been to Smak back at those who forget that this is a game; that the purpose is to have fun. My own personal life has been experiencing a metamorphosis over the last three years. I find it to be no coincidence that the same year I started playing Strat-O again, I found a wife who came to me with a magnificent daughter. My life has been the most wonderful it has been in years, probably since the Dukes of Hazard went off the air. Now, as my wife and I expect a child, I can’t wait to share this gift with her or him. To pour stats into the little one’s head; to tell stories about my father and I in right field at Shea stadium watching the likes of Rusty Staub and Ed Kranepool and explain why Felix Millan held the bat like it was a chopstick. I think I will start the child off with the board game, not the computer version because, let’s face it, the board game is just more fun. Most of us so-called adults don’t have the time to fool with it anymore, but most of us wish we could, if life hadn’t taken over.
I vow from this point forward not to let life take over. Of course, I realize I will slip from time to time, but never again will I forget who I am and from where it is that I came in the wake of the responsibilities this world heaps upon me.
I am not ashamed to admit that I have shed many tears since the events of September 11th. The tragedy of that day shall haunt me forever. And I realize that I am a lucky one in all of this. I did not lose a loved one, nor was I directly affected by the stupidity of those who know only how to hate. Yet, I still cry for the men and women who were lost. I lose my breath thinking of the end of our innocence as a country. However, if there is one small silver lining in all of this, it is that I have seen this country and, for the most part, this world, pull together as one. This generation got to see what Patriotism really means. Our kids got to see that people like Barry Bonds and Mario Lemieux and Joe Montana are not the heroes in this world. It’s not money or status or how far you can hit a ball that makes you a hero. It’s truly giving of yourself without asking for thanks or credit or money for helping your fellow brother or sister that makes you one. So many people have shown themselves as true heroes through this tragedy while, so humbly, our sports stars have chosen to shine a little less bright in deference to those who truly deserve the spotlight.
People, our entire world changed on September 11th. None of us will ever be the same. But now, as the grieving process continues, and life returns to its new normalcy, I vow to take charge of life and I urge you to do the same. My wife told me of a man she saw on TV this week. His house had flooded. When he went out to get supplies to alleviate the flooding his car was wrecked. When he got home the flood had started again and his house had suffered more damage. The amazing thing, however, is that when his wife got home, she asked him, “How was your day?” His reply, “Great. Since September 11th, every day I am alive is great.”
Next month, these articles will begin to come your way again. Strat-O keeps me young inside and I vow to continue to share this with you. My friends, never again shall I let life take over.
As I sit here, wondering how to end this, how to tie up all the feelings I have about the events that have occurred; all the tragedy and miracles I have seen; how to capture the irony of sport and its place in the world, a smile comes to my face as tears dampen my eyes. I can hear the voice in my head as if he were still with us today. A voice I listened to on Saturdays for years as a kid and as an adult. I can imagine Mel Allen looking down from heaven and taking all of this in and saying, without missing a beat, “How about that?” Heck, what else could you say?
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