"7"
Over the last week, HBO has been debuting a movie about the life of Mickey Mantle. I haven’t seen it yet, it hasn’t been on when I can watch it, but I understand it is well made. I also understand they spend a great deal of time on his shortcomings, which are just as much a part of who we are as our good traits.
Mantle was one of those people who never understood why so many people loved him. People admired Mantle and Mantle admired them. He thought he was just a ball player, the important people were the ones who did the hard work and people who were smart. He had that “Aww shucks” Southern way about him. He was almost childlike in his behavior and mannerisms. Yet he was the kind of person who was so unassuming, that he was scared he’d let people down. Mantle’s hook was his simplicity. He was the kind of man who other grown men wrote him fan letters, like a relative of mine.
He reduced talented and cerebrally blessed men like Billy Crystal and Bob Costas to children in his presence to the point where their love and admiration of him, became a central focus of their lives. They loved him as a child and wanted to be him and then as adults, got to live their dream of just being his friend.
Mantle’s life was ruined by his drinking, but everyone who knew him knew he was a tragic figure really.
When I was a little kid, I knew Mickey Mantle was a baseball player, but to me at age 5 or so, I just knew him as the man who ate oatmeal in a Maypo commercial. I had only heard how wonderful he was from others. I never got to see him play a real game.
But like Billy Crystal describes his first visit to Yankee Stadium, he walked in and only had seen it in black and white on TV. The colors came to life when he first came inside as did the player with #7 on his shirt. Mantle signed an autograph for him that day and then hit a home run that nearly left the Stadium altogether. Everything he had heard was true.
I stepped in there in 1972 and went to Old Timers Day. I too fell in love with what I had only seen on black and white TV. The Stadium was old and falling apart, but I loved it just the same. I saw the man with the #7 on his back and all the people around him and my youthful eyes could see the sun shone a little brighter around him.
Mantle had stopped playing a few years earlier, but he would participate in this exhibition game. The players can’t play like they once did, but occasionally you get a glimpse at what once was.
He stepped into the plate to a rousing applause and then took the first pitch and took the swing I always heard he possessed and the ball hit the bat and made a sound I had never heard with my 9 year old ears. My jaw dropped as the ball took off like it had been shot out of a cannon and but I was able to follow it as it went foul.
I thought I would never hear that noise again. I had been watching and playing baseball games for a few years and I never heard a ball hit a bat like that.
I waited for the next pitch, hoping I’d hear that sound again. Mantle didn’t disappoint me, he took his mighty swing and the ball made that unbelievable sound, but this time the ball went for a home run.
As 60,000 people stood and applauded, I watched him round the bases and now knew why everyone loved him. He never let anyone down. Even 4 years after he stopped playing, he still was making people happy. Everything I had heard was true too.
I know there were people in his life that were less than satisfied with him, yet he was so flawed he was perfect if that makes sense. He was perfect in his humaness.
He was one of a kind and why 10 years after his death, people are still talking about him.
Mantle was one of those people who never understood why so many people loved him. People admired Mantle and Mantle admired them. He thought he was just a ball player, the important people were the ones who did the hard work and people who were smart. He had that “Aww shucks” Southern way about him. He was almost childlike in his behavior and mannerisms. Yet he was the kind of person who was so unassuming, that he was scared he’d let people down. Mantle’s hook was his simplicity. He was the kind of man who other grown men wrote him fan letters, like a relative of mine.
He reduced talented and cerebrally blessed men like Billy Crystal and Bob Costas to children in his presence to the point where their love and admiration of him, became a central focus of their lives. They loved him as a child and wanted to be him and then as adults, got to live their dream of just being his friend.
Mantle’s life was ruined by his drinking, but everyone who knew him knew he was a tragic figure really.
When I was a little kid, I knew Mickey Mantle was a baseball player, but to me at age 5 or so, I just knew him as the man who ate oatmeal in a Maypo commercial. I had only heard how wonderful he was from others. I never got to see him play a real game.
But like Billy Crystal describes his first visit to Yankee Stadium, he walked in and only had seen it in black and white on TV. The colors came to life when he first came inside as did the player with #7 on his shirt. Mantle signed an autograph for him that day and then hit a home run that nearly left the Stadium altogether. Everything he had heard was true.
I stepped in there in 1972 and went to Old Timers Day. I too fell in love with what I had only seen on black and white TV. The Stadium was old and falling apart, but I loved it just the same. I saw the man with the #7 on his back and all the people around him and my youthful eyes could see the sun shone a little brighter around him.
Mantle had stopped playing a few years earlier, but he would participate in this exhibition game. The players can’t play like they once did, but occasionally you get a glimpse at what once was.
He stepped into the plate to a rousing applause and then took the first pitch and took the swing I always heard he possessed and the ball hit the bat and made a sound I had never heard with my 9 year old ears. My jaw dropped as the ball took off like it had been shot out of a cannon and but I was able to follow it as it went foul.
I thought I would never hear that noise again. I had been watching and playing baseball games for a few years and I never heard a ball hit a bat like that.
I waited for the next pitch, hoping I’d hear that sound again. Mantle didn’t disappoint me, he took his mighty swing and the ball made that unbelievable sound, but this time the ball went for a home run.
As 60,000 people stood and applauded, I watched him round the bases and now knew why everyone loved him. He never let anyone down. Even 4 years after he stopped playing, he still was making people happy. Everything I had heard was true too.
I know there were people in his life that were less than satisfied with him, yet he was so flawed he was perfect if that makes sense. He was perfect in his humaness.
He was one of a kind and why 10 years after his death, people are still talking about him.
posted by CuzzinDave at 12:28 AM
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