The Pompatus of Love

I am a sports fan. Really big sports fan. My first love in sports is baseball. I have loved it since becoming a New York Yankee fan in the early 70's. The Yankees, Police Woman, Electric Company, Schoolhouse Rock, and Wonder Woman are part of my childhood memories. Faked being sick to watch the Yankee-Red Sox playoff game in 1978, too.

I also love the history of baseball and will argue that all records set before the 1950's should have an asterisk. No Blacks, Very few Latinos. No Valid Records.

Back then, you had to find a Negro league team to find the best black and Latino baseball players playing for meal money. They suffered and tried to eeek out a living with a game that they loved.

Buck O'Neil was the last living link to the Negro leagues. He appeared on Letterman, the landmark Baseball PBS Series and was an ambassador for a game that he loved. He showed bushels of class this past Hall of Fame Induction ceremony when he asked that people not feel sorry for his falling one vote short of induction (AND every sportswriter that did not vote for him should be taken out and..) and then lead the crowd in a beautiful song that brings tears to my eyes as I write this. The link is in the right column and worth playing.

He passed away today probably from a broken heart more than anything else.

I'll be in the corner silently sobbing and keeping his family in my thoughts.

Update: from a post I did on Dan Shanoff's Son of the Quickie (my nickname) Blog:

Rarely do I cry at the loss of a professional baseball player, but he was way more than that to many. Crying shame that he will probably make the hall of fame when dead for being the greatest living baseball ambassador.

Death is not fair. -sc