Stan the Man

Have you read the new book, Stan Musial, An American Life, by George Vecsey? While roughing it in the mountains, I read the book by candlelight at the cabin. Sounds Lincoln-esque doesn't it? Sorry for the hyperbole. Candles no...weak lighting yes. If you're a baseball fan, particularly from the Midwest, this is a must read. It's not Hemingway but the subject of Musial is pure truth not fiction.

It was a great light summer read about a man who was exceptional in his craft of baseball and a man who was as unglamorous and low drama as a pair of khakis. Stan "The Man" Musial from the mines of Donora, PA. and a 22 year star for the St. Louis Cardinals, was one of the greatest baseball players of all time and one of the most under-rated players of all time outside of baseball heaven, St. Louis, Missouri. In an era of Joe DiMaggio and Ted Williams, Stan Musial was better than both of them. What he didn't have was a big city backdrop. He worked in a media backwater, St. Louis, while the other two worked in the media frenzy machines of New York City and Boston respectively. What happened in St. Louis was back page stuff. What happened on the Eastern Seaboard was headlines across the nation.

All of this geography imbalance aside, Stan #6 stat's speak for themselves: 22 years, .331 batting average, 3,630 hits (fourth all time),475 home runs, 725 doubles, 177 triples, 1,951 rbis, three time MVP, seven batting championships, struck out only 696 times, and played in 4 World Series. The Yankee Clipper DiMaggio #5's stats: 13 years, .325 batting average, 2,214 hits, 361 home runs, 1,537 rbis, 10 World Series. Teddie Ballgame Williams #9's stats: 19 years, .344 batting average, 2,654 hits, 521 home runs (in a bandbox Fenway Park), 1,839 rbis, two time MVP, six batting championships, one World Series.

Stan played the game without fanfare or self-importance. He was a church-going, devoted family man of four and married to Lil, his wife of 70 plus years, who could turn on a ball as fast as Cool Papa Bell could turn off a bedroom light. He was humble. Gifted. Cheerful. Musical. Ready smile. Impaired with speech issues (bet you didn't know that). Approachable. Yet, all his natural gifts aside, he remains to this day a simple unassuming man who just loves living with Lil, talking baseball and playing his harmonica.

In September of 1963, Stan played his last game. A ceremony for Stan was staged before the first pitch by Gussie Busch, the blustery beer-baron owner of the Cardinals. While the ceremonial fanfare continued on and on, Stan looked sheepishly onward with the look of when will this fuss be over. For he was a ball player not a celebrity. At the conclusion of the pregame festivities, The Commissioner of Baseball, Ford C. Frick, was handed the microphone and proclaimed these immortal words to Stan and to all in attendance: "Here stands baseball's perfect warrior. Here stands baseball's perfect knight." In reverence for Stan, silence befell a packed to the rafters Sportsman's Park off Grand Avenue that Sunday. Only the start of the game brought the teary fans back to earth. (Interestingly, Stan's last at bat as a Cardinal that day was a sharp single to right field beyond the reach of rookie second baseman, Pete Rose. As one perfect warrior was leaving the public stage of baseball, one imperfect warrior was just getting started.)

For many years later after Stan was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1969, I would see Stan at various St. Louis functions and locations. I was always in awe of the man. He's "The Man" for chrissakes! The best that ever was. However, he always seemed so alone to me. I often wondered why he appeared so vulnerable...so unprotected? I thought, he's a god in this town. Shouldn't he have bodyguards around him to protect him from pests like me? But, he was always comfortable with himself amidst all of us, his fans. I suspect that's why he was and is so loved in St. Louis. He is one of us. He is just a man with rare gifts. But that's how they raise them in western PA. No matter how successful one becomes, at their core, they remain humble. Arnold Palmer, professional golf icon, from Latrobe, PA., is the same way.

In 2003, my youngest son, Will, and I were at a sports function at the Missouri Athletic Club in downtown St. Louis. I happen to look over and see Stan Musial sitting by himself with harmonica in hand. Will and I went over to say hello and Stan graciously gave Will a signed momento, posed for a picture (see above) and then proceeded to play his signature favorite, "Take Me out to the Ballgame", on his harmonica. It was a priceless moment.

Reading this book made Stan come alive again in the batters box. I remember that peek-a-boo stance from the left side and those small hands and broad shoulders. Seemingly, he always came through with the big hit. His successes were ours. Conversely, his failures were ours as well. He electrified all St. Louis, midwestern, mountain and southern fans. Because of this book, I'm so happy the rest of the country now knows just how special a ball player and a man, Stan Musial, was and still is.

Stan at age 90 continues to live in St. Louis as best he can. He still plays his harmonica when the spirit moves him.