Quote:
Originally Posted by Pelican
Any of the compilations by the late, great Roger Angell of the New Yorker, who lived long enough to have known Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Mantle, Jeter, Chapman, Judge.
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I did not know that Roger had passed. At 101, it was bound to happen, but still.
My favorite work of his is "The Baltimore Vermeers", his review of the 1970 season (the title refers to Brooks Robinson's fielding plays being framed in the mind, as works of art), specifically the section on the failure of the Mets to repeat, falling to a miserable 83-79 after the 100-62 that pushed them to the title. The concluding section, from "and yet, and yet…" to the final, depressing, "…which is the mark of an old, old ball team." is a sad eulogy for a thing of beauty and wonder, gone all too soon. I regret that I can't find it online (where's Scribd when I need them? That stuff used to be free) and that I'm too lazy to transcribe it.
"Stubbornly, almost sullenly, they rallied…"
"Official extinction descended in Pittsburgh five days later, and the two-year age of wonders came to its end."
I'm sure that part of this is the current Mets having had Official Extinction descend last night (and my only following this season as a freebie because DirecTV screwed up; my "No Manfred-ball" vow takes full effect next year), but this puts a punctuation mark on my emotions.
Ah, well, to quote the Marvel Cinematic Universe: "A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts." True enough. For the Mets, baseball itself, and Roger. Adieu, sage.
(Even without remembering the Ron Darling-Yale connection, it makes sense for Smoky Joe Wood to have been at that game, as he was a former Yale coach, from 1924-1941. He was only dismissed because Yale was trimming staff positions, due to World War II.)