Dodger Lessons
August 6, 2013
The first baseball team I played on was the Dodgers. I’ve been a Dodger fan ever since, checking their place in the National League standings almost every day of the season, year after year. It would have been difficult to learn more about sports and life from any professional sports franchise than one could learn from the Dodgers as I was growing up.
It was the Dodgers who returned integration to the Major Leagues in 1951, which from my home in central Wisconsin seemed unremarkable; and when I became old enough to think about baseball, Jackie Robinson was my most favorite player for a long while.
It was the Dodgers who led the Major League’s migration from the northeast to the west, which my young mind could not grasp. From historic Brooklyn to Los Angeles? To play in the Coliseum?
I could not know then that this leading edge of professional sports franchise mobility would become an early adopter of a new toy called “television,” and that this would solidify baseball’s place as the national pastime for two more generations.
I coped with tragedy as catcher Roy Campanella suffered a paralyzing injury. I considered religion’s place in life as Sandy Koufax declined to pitch on Jewish holy days.
The Dodgers of my youth already knew that life is not fair. How could it be after Oct. 3, 1951, when the hated Giants’ Bobby Thompson hit a ninth-inning homerun to steal the National League pennant from my Dodgers?
Sadly, the Dodgers of more recent years have been beset by the kind of ownership dramas now common among professional sports as the insipid idle rich ruin even the most stable and storied franchises.
And speaking of rich, had it not been for my dear mother’s insatiable desire to clean out every closet she found, I might be rich too. For I had collected, and kept in mint condition, the baseball card of every Dodger player of the 1950s. They were thrown out while I was away at college.
Our Place in the Sun
August 22, 2017
Today’s blog was written by MHSAA Website and Publications Coordinator Rob Kaminski
Millions of people across the country yesterday were mesmerized and fascinated by a once-in-a-lifetime show staged by the solar system: a total solar eclipse, which spanned the contiguous United States from Oregon to South Carolina.
The “Great American Eclipse” (because everything needs a title these days) was preceded by countless hours of coverage to prep enthusiasts on a variety of topics: the best places in which to view “totality;” the time frame in which the phenomenon would occur; the manner in which to view the orbs without damaging retinas; and, for the more scientifically inclined, detailed explanations as to the cause of the event.
It is somewhat ironic that this temporary traveling blackout began in the Pacific Northwest where people often yearn for even a glimpse of the sun over periods of time, and ended off the coast of South Carolina where residents have endured more than their share of weather disasters and a day of total sun would have been greatly preferred. At widespread locations in between, how many citizens beg for just a little more sunshine each day when the clock runs out on Daylight Saving Time?
The attraction to Monday’s event, of course, was its rarity. Its peculiarity. Its deviation from the norm. The last time a total solar eclipse could be seen anywhere in the United States was 1979, and the last time it went coast to coast was 99 years ago. That was the hook. It was darkness’s day in the sun.
Another MHSAA football season kicks off around the state Friday just clear from the shadows of Monday’s historic, but fleeting, happening. The school sports spotlight shines brightest on fall Friday nights and has for decades, not only in Michigan, but also from shore to shore across the country. It is pep rallies and parades; pizza parlors and burger joints; neighborhood caravans and tailgates; perhaps even a Friday cross country meet or volleyball match, all leading up to the football game, for many years the only game in town.
Now, as college football continues its attempt to upset the natural balance and create its own eclipse, it is our hope that high school fans from state to state will consider this movement a fleeting attention grab. It is our hope that the people who have fueled our product over the course of time will turn their heads and focus on the brightest Friday night stars in their own back yards.