Baseball

Watching the old black and white TV in the 1950’s, the memory of Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese was etched into my mind. Growing up in the deep south, the New York Yankees, Boston Red Sox. . . the Phillies, the Pirates, the White Sox, the Cubs. . . the heroic masters of baseball. . . Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra. . . they were heroes, visible on our TV screens, with Dizzy and PeeWee providing the commentary that informed us of what was happening on the field. . . . . .a swing and a miss. . . a ground ball to Boyer; he scoops it, makes the throw, and beats the runner at first, Mazeroski out, and that retires the side, with Pittsburgh up by one as we go into the fifth inning (or) . . . there’s a high fly ball out to left field, Willie Mays has it, for the second out, as Cletis Boyer steps up to the plate, hoping to get the Cardinals back into this ball game.

Such was the ongoing dialogue between Dean and PeeWee in every game that they covered for television audiences all over the nation. . . and not only the events of the game, the changing scores. . . the dynamic duo of sports broadcasting had plenty of history and experience and professional insight into the game itself. Dizzy and PeeWee had total understanding of the game, both having been star players back in the day. . . In 1947, our nation was still torn apart with racism and discrimination against black folks. Jackie Robinson. When he was promoted from the Dodgers farm team up to the Dodgers roster. He endured horrible abuse from the crowds, and even from his teammates. As for their opponents on the diamond, hatred and name-calling was terrible. During Jackie’s earliest pro games, some pitchers actually aimed their pitches at Jackie’s head. But Jackie got by, and excelled, with a little help from a few friends.

His ardent defender on the Dodgers team was Pee Wee Reese. During a pre-game warmup, the fans were heckling Jackie loudly. Pee Wee, captain of the team, went over to Jackie, had a brief talk with him, and put his arm on Jackie’s shoulder, an obvious, very public, gesture of kindness, friendship and confidence. That was one small gesture for man, one giant leap for mankind! I wasn’t even born yet. About ten years later, I would be watching TV on Saturday a afternoon, listening to Pee Wee and Dizzy report on a game, maybe the Yankees, or the Braves, or the Pirates, the Phillies, Dodgers. . . Meanwhile, in hundreds of neighborhoods somewhere America, young boys were gathering for a baseball game. In their imagination. . . “Now it was time for Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra to step up to the plate, and Donnie and Mike and Joe, and whoever would show up, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays and Hank Aaron. These boys, eight or nine of them, began to congregate at the large corner lot next to where the Thompsons live. There was no backstop or nothing like that, which really didn’t matter, they had all the time in the world, it being summer”. . . (excerpt from chapter two of my 2017 novel, King of Soul Baseball has been very very good to me!. . . and to America. . . and to the world!