i echo bob's & pete's comments, and i'm glad they wrote them.

i also wanted to write about the banquet, and something terrific i discovered or rediscovered there. (if i could write short, folks, i would. but regrettably, i can't. so this is separate entry from bob's and pete's. babe ruth used to say before some games, "i feel hittish today," and then he'd often go blast a homer. well, i feel wordish today. here's hoping i at least connect.)

there had to be easily 200 of us, men and women, in the banquet hall at the marriot last night as we celebrated our 20th anniversary.

and there was much to enjoy there (i'm vouching that the vegetarian lasagna and asparagus hit the mark, and the cheesecake was fine) but i was especially struck by the messages that the hall of fame inductees, dick stark and ron coon, delivered.

it seemed that all we have, all that the league's founders and its builders since have labored hard to put together, was there in their two messages.

it was also there in the room, in the chats, handshakes and the waves among the league members, their wives, families and friends. it's the kind of connection that warms the soul on wet and dreary march nights. or any night.

the curious thing is that i opened the new york times sports section today and i saw that what i found last night is not unique to us. it extends from sandlots like ours all the way to the major leagues and the hall of fame. you'll see that below.

first, the speeches.

dick stark, a terrific hitter and successful manager, talked with characteristically fine and often self-deprecating humor about the memories of teammates he knew from his play here, memories he values all the more now that he's moved the charlotte, n.c., where he'll have to, and no doubt will, make new baseball connections.

ron coon, a pitcher whose fastball could freeze batters in the box and an equally fine hitter, emphasized the intensity with which he played the game and how that strong feeling for baseball had been passed on from his late father, through him and now to his sons.

(ron's words made me think how lucky we are, how lucky anybody is, who can, after, say, the age of 30, feel such fire for anything. then i wondered if maybe those fires can leap, keeping embers going in other parts of our lives? that way, we don't go out too young? and when we do go, we go young? the thought came and went and, after reading today's times, it's back.)

the audience clearly enjoyed both speeches, but what struck me in their remarks and in the audience's response, was that they put on display all that we have in the league, and it's considerable: there's fine, at times, astonishing play, strong feelings for the game, and connections among people who, were it not for baseball, would likely not know each other, but who, because they play and know each other, find themselves laughing, hooting, clapping and quietly kicking up small rugs on a dark night.

a good banquet, one with lots of flow, is made for small, quick chats and this one was that. it's like encountering little warming fires here and there. for my part, i started happily chatting with ralph and sue caputo, then with ed and sirli obertubessing, then saying hello to don ball and his wife, and greeting john vidor, don and laurie wixon, brian mussella and gene rodriguez and their wives. then i learned the values of lasix surgery from paul celetano (look out pitchers!) and, when i turned around, i suddenly found myself staring at two new yellow birch bats, being held up by a smiling steve lounello. they're bats i'd ordered through him on tuesday, and here they were, shiny and unmarked, being delivered to me four days later at a banquet. who gets bats at a banquet? actually, it turned out that was useful: jimmy konstantakis asked if he could use one as a prop in his speech to introduce dick stark. he did and promptly homered. i also nodded to or shook hands with mike kane, bob weitz and tim brown, who replied in kind.

because i chatted so much, i found myself without a table when the eating started. so i sat in the back alone, content to observe and enjoy (former journalist that i am, i know the back table well.) i wasn't there for long when jon martin walked up to me and said, "you're not sitting alone," and asked his cubs teammates to clear a space for me at their table. so what a pleasant night i had sitting among the 35 champions and chatting with randy craft, tom sheperdson, tommy maney and jim mcquade and their wives, sean maney and his lady friend. just before he spoke, dick stark stopped by and we reminisced warmly about our days together as red hot chili peppers and as teammates on baseball trip we took to san antonio some years back, with many of these same cubs, winning four of five games in a small tournament there.

in short, there were connections everywhere.

so leap to the new york times. in sunday's edition, i see that the former dodger pitcher, ralph branca, writes movingly about his former teammate and hall of fame centerfielder, duke snider, who died last week. this is part of what branca wrote:

"In 1980 at [Duke's] Hall of Fame induction, I was there with many of his teammates to cheer him on. We werent surprised when he talked about how great we were and failed to mention his own remarkable accomplishments.

"The Brooklyn brotherhood never died. We kept up over the years. We would have dinner when, as the broadcaster for the Montreal Expos, Duke came to New York. His knowledge of the game grew over the years. I loved talking baseball with Duke. He had his opinions without being opinionated. He genuinely wanted to hear what you had to say.

"In the end, when he was living in a nursing home, we continued to talk. In the last weeks, when I learned he was failing, I contacted his beloved wife, Bev, who was by his side. I wanted to tell Duke just how much I admired him. I wanted him to know what a privilege it was to call him my friend. At that point, all Bev could do was put the phone to his ear. He died last Sunday at 84.

"I still see Duke as a young man. I see him out there in center field, racing past the ads for Van Heusen shirts and Gem razors, while executing a brilliant running catch. I see him at the plate, crushing Robin Robertss fastball and sending it soaring high over that crazy right-field wall at Ebbets Field. I see him rounding the bases. I see him smiling. I feel the joy of his sweet, happy soul.''

so last night i looked around the banquet hall, and i saw in the faces of the men and women there the good things that the league's builders, from john reel, dennis scimeca, artie gianakos, todd baldwin, billy jones, jim jordan, billy harkin, kevin jackson and don dunham to the present constructors like quentin jensen, jon martin, donny ball and many names i'm unavoidably leaving out, and i thought we've got something great here.

and today i saw that ralph and duke had the same thing.

lord, we're lucky so-and-so's. how'd we get to be so lucky?



-- Edited by mhart on Sunday 6th of March 2011 09:46:42 PM