Strat-o-Musings
Michael J.
Rivet, Jr.
September, 2001
This
month I bend my creed to speak some important words on serious subjects. There will probably never be a right time to
post this article – so I do it know.
It’s
hard to believe that on the 28th of August I was sitting once again
at Heritage Park watching the Albany-Colonie Diamond Dogs with my father. They lost that day to their upstate rival
the Adirondack Lumberjacks but had already clinched the playoffs. We had a good time and talked of getting a
ticket for a playoff game. As life
would have it we didn’t make it. Family
matters tend to take over and I never called him. We would have gone on September 5th. A week later the unthinkable happened when a
landmark fell, lives were lost, and so the ballparks were left silent. In light of catastrophic events baseball
became very trivial.
A
man I have never met, never spoken to nor seen is one of the missing at the
WTC. He is one of the true heroes of
this country – a firefighter – and he was with the first that responded to the
WTC disaster. He has not yet
returned. His name is Ken Marino, owner
of the Arizona Rattlers of the All-Star Strat League. I know him only as I know most owners I play against: a man who
loved to compete and loved the game of baseball. He would often be gone for long stretches as he performed his
brave duties in New York City. We all
understood and, I think, admired him.
His
team wasn’t having a great season – currently 60-80 with 20 games remaining –
but he always put up a fight and wasn’t beaten easily. That’s what he was doing on September 11,
2001. Winning one for those struck by
this tragedy. In my heart, I know he
was fighting right up until the building collapsed around him and the rest of
Rescue One. We of the ASSL may only
lose the remainder of a season. Katrina
Marino and her two children have lost what they hold most dear. For them there can be no joy in Mudville.
It’s
a very easy statement to make. Of
course, the pursuit of sport is not important in the face of life’s true
challenges. The players themselves
would be the first to say it. When a
family member dies or they are stricken with disease or injury the battle
becomes for life instead of winning a game.
Using the term hero or heroics in relation to a game is almost
laughable. Never again can I take
seriously when broadcasters and sports writers spin tales of the “heroics” of a
ballgame. Determination, heart, grit,
and focus I hold in respect. These are
the skills I teach to my young soccer players.
The skills needed when sport is left behind with other childhood pursuits.
Children
must play. They must know that the
world is safe and secure enough for them to run wild on a field chasing other
children. They must live in that cocoon
we as parents provide for them. There
are important life lessons to be learned in the pursuit of sport: teamwork,
respect for authority, following directions and working to a common goal. It is not a coincidence that young girls
allowed to play sports succeed at a higher rate in the business world then
those that aren’t afforded that opportunity.
An
important thing happened this Saturday: 12 boys stepped on a soccer field and a
team walked off. No, we didn’t win – my
teams rarely do. We fought back from
1-0 and 3-1 deficits finding a will inside themselves to fight back. Well, the score was 3-2 in the end though I
feel we won something. The other coach,
the referee, the parents were all proud of the way the boys responded. I hope the boys remember this lesson as they
struggle with the events of the past week.
There is always hope when you don’t give up.
It
was an easy decision for Bud Selig to make to not hold baseball games. For the first few days I’m sure no one even
noticed. The events of the day were
still very livid in our minds and blocked out all else. But after seven days of no baseball –
especially my beloved New York Yankees – I can feel the void left behind. It is selfish, I know, as many people out
there struggle with the void left by the loss of loved ones. And I will see baseball again. As I write this I’m watching the Mets play
Pittsburgh. The mood is somber, the
crowd sparse, and the players seem uninspired.
But it’s baseball.
How
do you reconcile the paradox? I don’t
think you can. I’ve struggled with this
all week as I’ve watched the grim news, saw the flags wave on people’s houses
and vehicles, and heard about the amazing volunteer efforts underway not just
at “Ground Zero” but across this great nation.
Tonight, at least, I can pretend the world is back to the way it was: a
land of quiet innocence where grown men play at the boy’s game our father’s
taught us. Sitting in a ballpark we can
forget the grind of our lives, the troubles of the society, and put off our
responsibilities to the world.
Ted
Williams put aside his glove and bat – as well as many others – when he heard
the patriotic call of his country.
Twice. This is why Teddie
Ballgame has always been a hero of mine.
I used to dream of Mr. William’s eagle eyes flying his fighter-bomber
over Korean skies as he helped defend his brother Americans on the
battlefield. I bet to him baseball was
easier after that. This I suspect is
why he never tipped his cap to the fans until 1999 when he was overcome by the
emotion of the fans at the All-Star game.
He probably had seen just too much of the ugliness of the world to
over-emphasize a game.
Go
to Dave Amori Jr.’s website at www.oocities.org/allstarstratleague. It will tell you more about Ken Marino and
how to contact his family. Put a face
and name to this disaster. Take the
link to the Website dedicated to Ken, as well.
I
pray that next month we can once again enjoy this hobby of ours in the hopeful
knowledge that the fate of the all the victims is known and that justice has
been meted out.
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