What I remember, as much as anything, was the raw hope that was passed along hand to hand, desk to desk, imagination to imagination. By the time the magazine made its way around trig class it was almost thin as tissue paper.
I remember asking a friend of mine a simple question.
“Why hadn’t we heard about this kid before?”
But did it matter? In 1984 there was no Internet, no Facebook, no Twitter. ESPN was one channel. We still waited until the next morning’s newspaper to get final scores of games we couldn’t see. Who knew what miracles lay in the minor leagues? All we knew was, apparently this kid, Sidd Finch, could throw 168 miles an hour, give or take.
All we kept referring to was the headline over the story, written by the great George Plimpton: “He’s a pitcher, part yogi and part recluse. Impressively liberated from our opulent life-style, Sidd’s deciding about yoga…”
I’m pretty sure it was Paul — he’s a doctor now, you’ll be happy to know – who pointed out that there was a message if you strung together the first letter of every word of that headline: H-A-P-P-Y-A-P-R-I-L-F-O-O-L-S-D-A-Y. I like to think it is proof of God’s sense of humor that we did wind up with a nice consolation prize out of that spring — the young Doc Gooden.
But I always remember the initial burst of hope, because that explains so much about why we turn to sports, right? You feel it all across New York City now, no matter how many times common sense or Larry King or an NBA “insider” tells us that LeBron James is a long shot to become a Knick. After all: what is life without relying on the occasional long shot? Especially one that could mean as much to sporting life in this city as that long shot would?
It’s hoping your kid quarterback is ready to become the next Peyton Manning — or the present Eli Manning. It’s blind belief that Ike Davis is a 15-year star, and not a 15-minute wonder. Mostly, of course, it’s about finding the rarest of rare gems and wondering if, sonofagun, is this kid really as good as it seems he is?
Like watching Stephen Strasburg the other night on MLB Network, or today on TBS, when he takes that priceless right arm of his and unleashes it against the Cleveland Indians. We are a cautious lot in sports, always wanting to temper and self-edit ourselves in the fear of saying something that can be thrown back at us in years to come. So for every breathless description about Strasburg, there comes an instant and immediate stockpile of disclaimers: “It’s one game,” “Major league hitters adjust to everyone,” and the most popular one of all, paraphrasing Bill Parcells: “Let’s not hang a plaque for him in Cooperstown yet, fellas.”
All well. All good. All fair. But you know something? Someone saw Babe Ruth for the first time once. Someone saw Michael Jordan play his first game. Someone saw Gretzky, at a time when he was unknown, when people said, “Can you believe we lost to a kid named Wayne?” Maybe he really will be Mark Prior. But maybe he will be everything we think he can be.
It will be nice knowing we saw him when. And that we saw him now.
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WHACK BACK AT VAC
Jerry Jacobs: Bud Selig has obviously forgotten the 1983 pine tar incident. The Royals protested the game, and their protest was officially heard by American League President Lee MacPhail, who restored Brett’s home run. The Tigers should have played the game under protest, the protest should have been honored and the perfect game awarded.
Vac: I disagree, but love the fact this argument persists a week later. (My take: Pine tar was a rules interpretation, not a judgment call. Bud got this right).
Ron Seidel: I wonder what Jim Joyce’s mindset was before the play. Anything close should have gone to [Armando] Gallaraga. Remember 1956? Dale Mitchell was a fine hitter and great at recognizing the strike zone. [Don] Larsen’s last pitch was a questionable strike.
Vac: Actually, it was high and outside, so the last call Babe Pinelli ever made as an ump, he blew. Goes to the point: human umpires make human mistakes. We live with it and move on.
Rob Connelly: John Wooden’s career was extraordinary, but I’ve been hearing the word integrity thrown around like a Frisbee. His deafening silence with [controversial booster]Sam Gilbert was troubling to say the least. A great coach, no doubt, and obviously a net positive for the players who came in contact with him, but St. John? Hardly. RIP.
Vac: I was stunned how many appreciations left Gilbert out of the equation, frankly. Discussing a man’s imperfections after he dies is no sin, it just gives a broader picture.
Herb Eichen: “Failure to prepare is preparing to fail” — that quote was created by Benjamin Franklin, not John Wooden.
Vac: Actually the exact Franklin quote is: “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail,” but, yes, as old as Wooden was I think Franklin should probably get the credit for saying this first.
VAC’S WHACKS
* If I were Tom Izzo, I would run like hell to the pros, too. Why should crooks like Pete Carroll be the only ones who get paid?
* Reggie Bush keeps his Heisman, though. If we start retroactively taking trophies away from people who don’t deserve them, we’re going to have a lot more crowded team photo than just Bush and Brian Cushing.
* The Nets couldn’t possibly have done any better than they did hiring Avery Johnson, an over-achieving player and a full-achieving coach who immediately brings a layer of credibility the team hasn’t known since whacking Byron Scott.
* Finally, best wishes to Tom Fersch — the Mets’ senior director of season tickets and group sales, and one of the organization’s true good guys — who is fighting some health issues.