Because You Never Asked

     (This essay was written around 1994. As I put it up on my website in 2005, the steroid scandals currently rocking baseball are a good reason to go back and talk about the great players of another era, whose worth can now be judged in a more flattering light.)

     I recently saw an interview with one of Mickey Mantle's ex-managers, "The Major", Ralph Houk. Houk said something about Mantle that so impressed me, I decided to write this essay. In so doing, I will discuss Mickey's prowess as an athlete, but only as a way to add more relevance to what Houk said and to juxtapose the attitude of the great Hall of Famer against today's more selfish, modern athlete, who's never ending quest for that illusive few bucks more conjures up visions of a lunatic greyhound chasing a mechanical rabbit . forever.

     Just as an aside, I think the greatest ballplayer that ever lived was Babe Ruth. Obviously, his legendary feats with a bat, a bottle of beer, a mountain of hot dogs, a harem of women, a gaggle of kids, etc., always make him a contender for such honors. But his excellence as a pitcher early in his career locks up the crown for the Babe. Nobody has ever done that.

     There is a category in the history of American sport that has not been named yet. Only two men occupy this category: Babe Ruth and Muhammed Ali. (Don't ask me to explain why I say this or what it is supposed to mean.) Of the two, Ali must be considered the "greatest", because his career dealt with things beyond the realm of sport. There have never been others like them . and that's how it will stay forever.

     As for the ball players I've personally seen play, there are 3 that top my list: Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, and Pete Rose. Mickey and Willie are more obvious choices than Rose --- bigger, faster, etc. --- but the controversial Rose hits the list for his versatility and what we now call "intangibles". Any team he was on was an immediately better team. Mays, contrary to Rose, had talents so visibly obvious, he might be considered the most natural baseball player there ever was; but for sheer physical impression, I've never seen anything like Mickey Mantle.

     When it comes to brute power, Mantle has to be considered on any short list of "numero unos". There may have been some with more of a home run stroke that got a bit more distance on their longest blows --- Willie McCovey, Frank Howard, Willie Stargell, Cecil Fielder --- but then again, maybe not. But there is a difference between hitting the ball hard and hitting the ball long. Mickey Mantle was an ox. He could actually hit awesome singles and frightening, laser-like ground balls. Stay awake out there! (A few other names come to mind in the "hitting the ball hard" category: Dick Allen, Mike Schmidt, and two Bunyanesque contemporaries, Frank Thomas and Mark McGwire.)

     But that's not the half of it! For perhaps a decade, Mickey Mantle was the fastest runner in the American League. From the left side of the plate (oh yeah, he was a switch hitter too) his speed from home to first was incomparable. He was the strongest hitter and the fastest runner. Most of the game's great players have been poetic blends of power and speed, but not to Mickey Mantle's extent. He could bunt, he could field, he could throw, he was good in a barroom brawl . Man, what a player!

     So now we know that Mickey Mantle wasn't just good, he was Herculean good. So what did Ralph Houk have to say about his star? Did he emphasize his power, his speed; did he talk about the catch that saved the game or the homer that won one?

     No. He talked about Mantle's attitude and this is what he said: When Mickey went 0 for 4 and the Yankees won, he was the happiest guy in the clubhouse. If he went 4 for 4 and the team lost, he was the unhappiest.

     This attitude, so lovingly put forth by one who's life was touched by Mickey Mantle, could be described as poetic, romantic, indeed, even as socially correct and responsible. In a world based increasingly on "looking out for #1", on competing aggressively and getting what you can for yourself, Mickey's way of approaching the game should serve as a model for us all. I don't say this based upon the compassion I might feel for my fellow man, but more because this Mantle-like attitude would better fulfill each individual. As a society, we are progressively drifting further and further from any concept of communal well being and more towards individual achievement based upon each person's ability to compete and conquer. We are becoming unbalanced in this aspect of our life view. We are losing sight of the fact that the well being of the group is essential for the well being of the individual.

     Ironically, if Mickey were playing today, I'm sure the rancid, mercenary climate now prevailing would contaminate him and he'd be chasing the mechanical rabbit with all the rest of the egotistical young studs. But I'm equally sure that if you asked him right now if he envied today's millionaires jumping from one club to another, he'd say without ambiguity "no". He'd say that he loved being a Yankee and playing with Yogi and Whitey and Roger Maris and Hector Lopez and playing for Casey and "The Major", and being a part of a real team with a championship legacy.

     Ralph Houk isn't the only ex-Yankee I've heard talking about Mickey Mantle. Tony Kubek, who now works as an announcer on TV, most typifies the feelings of his teammates. These feelings go beyond the predictable respect for great athletic ability and more towards a kind of religious devotion. This is also true for the young boys of my generation, including such celebrity baseball fans as Billy Crystal and Bob Costas, who grew up watching him play. For us, he wasn't just Mickey Mantle, he was "The Mick", and he was more than a ball player. I'm sure this attitude described by Ralph Houk has something to do with this idolization. We could sub-consciously sense, in spite of the human frailties of his personal life, that here was a nice human being.

     Post Script: While working on this essay, the attack on Nancy Kerrigan, the Olympic figure skater, took place. How far the Olympic-Mantle spirit has fallen.

     Relevant Material: "They lack the fundamental idea of association, that being: each man thinking in the good of everyone else, so everyone else might think in the good of him alone." From the novel "La Isla de Robinson" (Robinson's Island), by the Venezuelan, Arturo Uslar Pietro.