Our ballpark for the two
title campaigns has gone out of existence. It wasn't really a
"ballpark," it was a "building." An embittered manager Whitey Herzog of St. Louis
said of the Twins after our '87 success: "They do well in this
building." He was trying to apply a dagger as if to suggest we didn't
have a true "ballpark," and there was more than a grain of truth there.
Well,
if those who share nostalgia about '87 and '91 are old-timers, what
does that make me? I will always embrace memories of our '65 team.
Bittersweet memories indeed. We climbed so far, yet we were denied the
World Series title in the maximum seven games. We burst our buttons with
pride about our Metropolitan Stadium. Quite logical, as five years
earlier we were a "cold Omaha" with our minor league Minneapolis
Millers.
Minnesota was awash with unbridled state pride for
the '65 season and the climactic World Series. Imagine, the World Series
in Minnesota! The whole idea required adjustment. Along the way we
knocked off the New York Yankees, mainly with a perfectly-timed Harmon Killebrew
home run that symbolically seemed to extinguish the Yankees' dynasty of
that era - the Whitey Ford, Mickey Mantle dynasty. Oh, and Roger Maris.
In '65 we had the dazzling Tony Oliva - "Tony O" as he was so affectionately called by Herb Carneal.
What a prodigy with the bat, from Cuba. He burst on the scene in 1964,
playing all 162 games. I look at that "162" number now and question the
judgment of having him play daily. Why not a day off after a night game, or
sitting down for game 2 of a doubleheader? Today that would surely be
done. Was baseball scared of getting complaints from fans who wanted to
see Oliva on a given day?
Gate
receipts were more important then, in the days with such limited TV
reach. Was Tony like a circus attraction, though? His body may have been
worn down in ways that brought consequences later. We're learning all
about what happens to football players today.
Tony had a
marvelous career but his body wasn't resilient enough to get the kind of
longevity needed for the Hall of Fame. Just one more solid season would
have sealed it. Many argue he was good enough anyway.
Tony
did not distinguish himself in post-season play. I'm sure that hurt. One
heroic World Series would have gotten him in. We won our division in
'69 and '70 but got stopped short of the Series. I will never forget
how, by the time of those division-winning seasons, we had come to take
the "Met" (our stadium) for granted, almost dissing it sometimes. By the end of the
'70s it was common to hear people talk about the stadium like it was passé. Strange.
Cities
go through generations of stadiums. It's as if the public demands a new
one every 20-30 years, the way restaurant customers expect a little
re-decorating once in a while.
I will remind you that I have written a song about Tony Oliva, and it's online. Here's the link:
Just days ago I posted the song I wrote about our current Target Field. I invite you to listen by clicking on this link:
Today
I have some straight poetry to share, inspired by that unique Cuban
athlete who is so beloved. The poem about "Tony O" reflects on his journey from when he
was just a prospect. I invite you to read:
A young man here from Cuban shores
Could he break down baseball's doors?
No comments:
Post a Comment