Monday, August 13, 2007

Measure Of A Man...

I knew a man who was a classic gentleman. The kind of man that would tip his hat to a lady and then follow with an old school gesture of opening the door as she made her entrance.

I knew a man who followed his beloved St. Louis Cardinals; for decades he had seen the best. He could name his favorite nine from the old Sportsman Park to the old Busch Stadium. He marveled over Gibson and McCarver and Brock. He admired the stance of Curt Flood as others lamented he was bad for baseball. He spoke of the great Negro League Players and never let their memories fade in his household. Their struggle and oppression was always talked about.

This man enjoyed the games on the radio over television. Perhaps, it was something about the story telling and delivery of the great Jack Buck.

As his youngest daughter grew he would create cherish moments as the two eagerly awaited the next stolen base from a legend to be as Lou Brook inched closer and closer to becoming the base-stealing king.

A back flipping wizard, Ozzie Smith and the young speedster Vince Coleman wowed them both. The two would celebrate and experience heartache as the Cardinals, the team of the eighties, would only win one World Series. Whitey Ball it was called!

Over the last few years I saw this man’s love of the game slowly dissolved into an occasional quick conversation about the Cardinals. He didn’t follow the game as much, his health dissipating. He mostly focused on his family, especially his girls; “take care of my baby”, he told the oldest.

Like great baseball of a different era, this type of man is evaporating. The measure of man is not by home runs or strikeouts nor the millions in his contract. The measure of man is his humility and dedication to doing what’s right to achieve the home runs, strikeouts and millions.

Amazing, how baseball has provided a link that connects father and child. There’s something about the home team, regardless of the record-that’s for Cubs fans, and cheering for a victory along side Dad. Especially mine. A good man.

Dedicated to Joseph Lee Lindsay 1914-2006.