Some would say my knowledge of baseball is rivaled only by my knowledge of politics – which is a polite way of saying that I know nothing of both.
But news yesterday of Jim Rice getting voted into the Baseball Hall of Fame on his final ballot brought a smile to my face. Rice played all of his 16 major league seasons with the Boston Red Sox, a feat Hall-worthy in its own right in today’s environment. He was an eight-time All-Star selection, and won the AL MVP in 1978. Speculation on why it took so long for Rice to get into the Hall focused on his hot-and-cold relationship with the sports media (the same folks who vote on Hall members).
Rice’s career stats were good (.298 career batting average, 382 HRs, 1,452 RBIs), but never included the one that would seem to cinch it for him – a World Series ring.
It is nice to see sports heroes from my childhood getting the recognition they deserve. To my knowledge, Jim Rice didn’t do steroids; he didn’t shoot himself with his own gun when asked to surrender it in a nightclub; and he didn’t behave badly with aging, parasitic popstars looking to retain some semblance of youth and relevance by feeding on the lifeforce of their hosts. He did show up for 16 seasons to play baseball for the Boston Red Sox; sometimes to the jeers of the Boston fans and sportswriters alike.
During summers when I was a kid, my buddy and I would play wiffle ball in my back yard, which happened to be perfectly constructed for a one-on-one game. The only drawback – the dozens of fecal landmines laid by my family dog. As an aside - there is nothing quite like the simultaneous feeling of ecstasy and horror when you feel the soft, warm squish of freshly-laid dog doo running between your bare toes. Anyway, my buddy Jim would always be the Red Sox when we played, even going as far as mimicking the batting stance of Rice whenever he came to bat (where I knew nothing of baseball, Jim knew everything).
Jim was a real Sox fan – and come to think of it, his Red Sox never won the series in my back yard, either. At least that was the way I remembered it…
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
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5 comments:
I had a small gag reflex when reading this as I've stepped in poo laid by that dog but it was upstairs on the bedroom carpet.
Yes, but tell me the sensition didn't intrigue you for a second or two before the horrid realization set in.
GG
Ah, the good old days. Wiffle ball over the pool while people played in the pool. All the while Dad grilling Sea kittens!
No intrigue at all, I knew right away. That was the foulest dog evr placed on this earth. Doc, while I look back in life, I see what a waste that pool of ours was. It was never properly used for the right reasons, except by maybe CW...or maybe you?
I did utilize it quite a bit.
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