Everyday Heroes
October 21, 2014
The last two Heisman Trophy winners have been mostly an embarrassment to college football after receiving what is supposed to be the sport’s highest individual award.
This has caused me to recall that Charles Schulz, the creator of “Peanuts” comic strip, was said to have often asked people to name the last few winners of the Heisman Trophy, the Pulitzer Prize, Miss America and Academy Awards. He reported that few people could name many of the recipients.
Then Mr. Schulz would ask the same people to name teachers and/or coaches who had inspired them. He reported that just about everyone had at least one to name quickly.
Schulz’s point was that for most of us, it is not award winners whom we remember. For most of us, the really important people are the “everyday heroes” who influenced our lives without fanfare or tribute.
Dodger Lessons
August 6, 2013
The first baseball team I played on was the Dodgers. I’ve been a Dodger fan ever since, checking their place in the National League standings almost every day of the season, year after year. It would have been difficult to learn more about sports and life from any professional sports franchise than one could learn from the Dodgers as I was growing up.
It was the Dodgers who returned integration to the Major Leagues in 1951, which from my home in central Wisconsin seemed unremarkable; and when I became old enough to think about baseball, Jackie Robinson was my most favorite player for a long while.
It was the Dodgers who led the Major League’s migration from the northeast to the west, which my young mind could not grasp. From historic Brooklyn to Los Angeles? To play in the Coliseum?
I could not know then that this leading edge of professional sports franchise mobility would become an early adopter of a new toy called “television,” and that this would solidify baseball’s place as the national pastime for two more generations.
I coped with tragedy as catcher Roy Campanella suffered a paralyzing injury. I considered religion’s place in life as Sandy Koufax declined to pitch on Jewish holy days.
The Dodgers of my youth already knew that life is not fair. How could it be after Oct. 3, 1951, when the hated Giants’ Bobby Thompson hit a ninth-inning homerun to steal the National League pennant from my Dodgers?
Sadly, the Dodgers of more recent years have been beset by the kind of ownership dramas now common among professional sports as the insipid idle rich ruin even the most stable and storied franchises.
And speaking of rich, had it not been for my dear mother’s insatiable desire to clean out every closet she found, I might be rich too. For I had collected, and kept in mint condition, the baseball card of every Dodger player of the 1950s. They were thrown out while I was away at college.