9809240253
DETROIT FREE PRESS
980924
Thursday, September 24, 1998
METRO FINAL
1D
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1998, Detroit Free Press
MAC, SAMMY BRING BASEBALL BACK TO LIFE
Afew weeks ago, on a visit to Japan, I heard a knock on my hotel room door. It
was a Japanese colleague holding a videotape and smiling broadly.
"McGwire hit No. 61!" he said. "Want to see?"
The next weekend, during a football game back home, someone elbowed me in the
press box and pointed excitedly to the TV set. "Look! Sosa got 61 and 62!"
And Wednesday, we were sitting around the WJR studios when the sound
engineer's voice came excitedly over the speakers. "Sosa just hit 64 and 65!
He's tied McGwire!" The room bolted upright as if someone had shot electric
current through the seats.
When this magical season ends, baseball should go to the vault, empty it out,
and give it all to Sammy and Mac. The way these two have elevated interest in
the national pastime is beyond repayment. Saved the game, is all they did.
Because make no mistake, baseball was in a sinkhole. Never mind the handful of
places where new stadiums were bringing in curiosity seekers and souvenir
buyers. Nobody was talking about the sport anymore. Its TV audience was
shrinking. The game was too slow, too long, too many players were changing
teams. The resentment from the strike of 1994-95 was still there, and baseball
stars were considered rich beyond caring. Schoolchildren -- the fertilizer of
any sport -- could name more Beanie Babies than they could major-leaguers.
It is no exaggeration to say the "national pastime" was falling to our No. 3
sport, behind football and basketball. In some cities -- including Detroit --
it was eclipsed by hockey. What fans didn't know about baseball, they didn't
want to know.
But now? Who doesn't know McGwire and Sosa? Who hasn't felt goose bumps at the
replays of McGwire racing around the bases on the homer that beat Roger Maris,
scampering back to touch first base, pumping his fist, grabbing his son?
Or Sosa, after he, too, broke Maris' mark, blowing kisses to the crowd that
wouldn't let him disappear into the dugout?
I am not one of those baseball-is-poetry guys. I do not see the field as a
"green and brown checkerboard." I do not believe Life Imitates the World
Series -- unless you mean that last year's World Series winners, the Florida
Marlins, got downsized like the rest of us.
But I will say this: McGwire and Sosa have given us the kind of tale only
baseball provides -- a daily tale. All other sports, you have to check the
schedule. But baseball, daily baseball, can be as habit-forming as a drug.
Suddenly, every night includes the sentences, "What did McGwire do today?" and
"Has Sammy taken his last at-bat yet?"
Saved the game, is all they did.
They needed each other
Remember, McGwire plays in St. Louis, not New York or LA. And Sosa was a guy
who, two months ago, could have walked into most sports bars in America and
had dinner without interruption.
Yet the two of them are now enormous figures, who will cast shadows all over
this sport. A white man and a black man, an American and a foreigner.
And what is so perfect, so human, about their pairing is how much each has
needed the other. Without Sosa, McGwire might have been so tight, you'd have
to oil his elbows to let him swing. A few months ago, he was not enjoying the
pressure at all. He fretted. He shooed away interviewers. But Sosa's arrival
and endless smile somehow loosened McGwire to the point that he, too,
lightened up.
Meanwhile, without McGwire cutting his wind, Sosa might have been overwhelmed
by the race against history. Instead, McGwire gave him heels to chase, and --
when the pressure mounted -- someone to defer to, in his frequent, "Aw shucks,
Mark's the man" comments.
It's a numbers game
Of course, the truth is, they are both "the man." And it would be fitting if
they finished tied for home runs, because neither deserves to step in the
other's shadow.
Nor do we need more debates like the one last week, over whether Sosa was
"dissed" because there was not equal fanfare when he passed Maris' mark. Come
on. A record is not a record if it's already been broken. Should the
commissioner have been there? Absolutely. But should the fuss have been the
same? Not unless you can name me the second man to break the four-minute mile.
Besides, Sosa has indeed been celebrated and profiled as much as McGwire. We
know Sosa's deep love for his native Dominican Republic just as we know
McGwire's tearful affection for his father and his son. In fact, together,
these two have provided a healthy alternative to the president and Kenneth
Starr. How strange that the men we elect to lead us are acting like boys,
while the boys of summer behave like gentlemen.
Now, it's true: Next year, if no one threatens the record, baseball could seem
very dull. But this is a sport of numbers that burn for years in the minds of
fans. The longest hitting streak? DiMaggio's 56 games. The last time someone
broke .400? Ted Williams' .406 in 1941.
And in less than a week, baseball will have a new number that everyone will
know. Whether it is 66, 67 or 70, you can multiply by a million and not have
the impact Mac and Sammy have had on the game. For all the balls they hit out,
the true measure of their home runs will be counted inside the park, fans in
the seats, for years to come. Saved the game is all they did. Someone say
thank you.
To leave a message for Mitch Albom, call 1-313-223-4581.
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
COLUMN;BASEBALL;SAMMY SOSA;MARK MCGWIRE