Mickey Mantle

...he was a presence in our lives - a fragile hero to whom we had an emotional attachment so strong and lasting that it defied logic. Mickey often said he didn't understand it, this enduring connection and affection-the men now in their 40s and 50s, otherwise perfectly sensible, who went dry in the mouth and stammered like schoolboys in the presence of Mickey Mantle...and he was our symbol of baseball at at time when the game meant something to us that perhaps it no longer does... Mickey Mantle had those dual qualities so seldom seen-exuding dynamism and excitement, but at the same time touching your heart-flawed, wounded. We knew there was something poignant about Mickey Mantle before we know what Poignant meant. We didn't just root for him, we felt for him...there was a greatness about him, but vulnerability too. He was our guy. When he was hot, we felt great. When he slumped or got hurt, we sagged a bit too. We tried to crease our caps like him; keel in an imaginary on-deck circle like him; run like him, heads down, elbows up. 

I've mentioned many times what an incredible story Mickey Mantle's life is, and there's been plenty of books writen about the humanity of Mantle: the drinking, the women, the hellhound on his trail, his being a great teammate, his sense of humor, the broken family, and on and on and on. It's all been told a million times.

One thing I can do all day is listen to guys who grew up in the 1950's blather on and on about their hero, The Mick. There seems to be a unique quality to this particular hero worship - mabye it's partly due to the Leave It to Beaver-styled innocence of the decade that evolved into much more cynical times in the decades following, making these men cling to their one and only hero in a way that might seem strange in any other day and age. Or maybe Mickey was just really that awe-inspiring, who the hell knows. But the list of guys who love talking about him includes Costas, Francesa, Crystal, and thousands of other guys that age we've never heard. Surely there's a book out there that's an oral history from these guys, no? Maybe they're all the same story, "my dad took me to the Stadium, Mick hit one out, I was hooked forever" etc. But it's a peculiar, special sense of a different time from long ago, and these guys aren't gonna live forever. Be cool to get all there stories one big, fat, coffee table-y place.