Moonstruck Memories

Nearly 50 years ago, I sat with members of the Maloney brood watching Lefty and Iona’s black and white television. Earlier that year, from the same location, I witnessed USC, which featured John McKay (a former Duck player and coach) and O.J Simpson, get stuffed by the Ohio State Buckeyes in the Rose Bowl.

On July 20, 1969, we all payed rapt attention as Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin descended the ladder from the landing craft, “Eagle,” the first Earthlings to walk the lunar surface. The incredible moment achieved President John F. Kennedy’s bold prediction more than half a decade before. He was shortly after assassinated.

Nobody, and I mean nobody, was sure if the astronauts would ever come back. In their own minds, at least one pondered the grisly notion of a moon site grave. We all felt like participants in the heretofore ridiculous notion that humans could land on the moon, including people from around the world.

The effort was the culmination of eight years of intense labor that included a force of nearly a half a million workers at an astronomical cost that ran into billions of dollars (billion was a very big number in the ‘60s). A lot of things had to go exactly right to accomplish the unfathomable task at hand. In other words, no mistakes.

The moment lifted America’s spirits in what was otherwise a dismal and desperate time, with the Vietnam War, civil strife and other looming issues facing America. We all sat dumbfounded, then elated, when we heard Armstrong’s immortal words: “The Eagle has landed. One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

Ball Four

Always loved baseball, starting at an early age. In all, I played 12 years of organized ball, from Cherry Park youth teams to Montavilla Little League to Madison-area Babe Ruth to Ascension Catholic Grade School to jayvee ball at Jesuit High School to varsity baseball and American Legion for Lincoln High School in Portland, Oregon.

As an Italian-American kid in the '50s, I worshiped the New York Yankees, especially Mickey Mantle. The man he replace as hero of the Bronx Bombers, Joe DiMaggio, had finally normalized Italian-Americans (seen by many as enemies during WWII) as both worthy and extremely talented people in sports, entertainment and more.

So naturally, I was saddened to hear of the passing of Jim Bouton (top), a Yankee pitcher during the glory years of the '60s. He won both starts in the 1964 World Series. The year before, he won 20 games with the Yanks. Despite his accomplishments, he is best known as the author of his tell-all book, Ball Four.

The book, which was wildly popular, described the risqué antics of the Yankees. It was an unfiltered look at professional sports teams, covering the off-the-field side of baseball life. The book made the Yankee pitcher unpopular with many. Listed in Time Magazine's 100 greatest nonfiction books of all time, Ball Four proved to be a baseball classic.

The baseball commissioner, Bowie Kuhn, described Ball Four as "detrimental to baseball" and attempted to oblige Bouton to sign a statement saying the book was fictional. However, Bouton refused to sign or deny any of the revelations in Ball Four. His reflections on Mickey Mantle were most notorious. I had no problem with it.

Bouton's frequent appearances likely contributed to nagging arm problems, effectively ending his status as a phenom. Relegated to bullpen duty, he turned to the knuckleball, a wild and crazy pitch that jumps around as it approaches the plate, confusing hitters. If performed correctly, it can be quite effective.

By the late '60s, Bouton had been traded and landed in Seattle on a minor league club, and I had become disenchanted with the Yankees. I never liked dynasties, which is why I was so pleased when the Toronto Raptors beat the seemingly invincible Golden State Warriors in the NBA Finals this year.

Shortly after, big league baseball arrived in the Pacific Northwest: the Seattle Mariners, who have, since then, become "my team." Admittedly, they were woeful at first, but turned the corner in 2001, winning 116 games, an American League record. Plus, I had moved on to football (Ducks!) and basketball (Blazers!).

Naturally, I also love baseball movies of all varieties, from the sublime (Field of Dreams,The Babe Ruth Story, Pride of the Yankees) to the nostalgic (The Sandlot, The Natural, A League of Their Own) to the ridiculous (It Happens Every Spring, Major League, Angels in the Outfield), and all points in between.

And books: Moneyball: The Art of Winning An Unfair Game, The Boys of Summer, The Last Boy, Mickey Mantle, and the End of America's Childhood, Eight Men Out, Wait Till Next Year, Men At Work, Bang the Drum Slowly, The Glory of Their Times, and Joe DiMaggio: The Hero's Life.

Today, I'm a big fan of many sports, including tennis, soccer, aquatics, gymnastics, lacrosse and more. I draw the line at championship poker and hockey. Does anyone actually watch hockey? Perhaps those in the northern latitudes who can't reasonably or practically play baseball until the middle of summer.

But I will always have a soft spot for baseball, and it was Ball Four that captivated me. I recommend it to those who have not read the tome. Not surprisingly, the book coincided with my rebellion against (and freedom from) authority (Catholic schools, the Free Speech Movement, anti-Vietnam War protests).