By Edwin Cooney
How many heroes have you had in your life? My numerous heroes can be categorized in approximately three interest areas: historic/political, sports/entertainment, and personal.
Very few men in history mean more to me than Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill —and today, November 30th, marks his 135th birthday.
Sure, he’s been gone since Sunday, January 24th, 1965 (almost 45 years now), but I occasionally wonder: with the world the way it is today and Winston being Winston, would he still be one of my heroes? The fact that I even hesitate over this question disturbs my heart and troubles my mind. (Okay! Maybe it’s even the other way around!)
Winnie was imperfect, even for his time. He’d drink wine at breakfast if he so chose. His drinking throughout the day and into the night was a combination of wine, whiskey and champagne. (I don’t know that he ever drank tea!) He was overweight, didn’t exercise, and smoked cigars like the proverbial chimney. Not even his magnificent voice was flawless. He lisped all his life and had a slight stutter. He could be cruelly sarcastic when it suited him. My favorite of a whole slew of Churchillian observations is what he had to say about Sir Stafford Cripps. Sir Stafford (Prime Minister Churchill’s first Ambassador to the Soviet Union) was handsome, always “dressed to the nines,” capable and erudite. Observed Winston, “There but for the grace of God, goes God.”
A lifelong militarist and imperialist, Mr. Churchill nevertheless was no reactionary. Although he both supported and reported on British adventurism in the 1890s and early 1900s in Africa and Asia, Churchill could be severe with British politicians who blatantly ignored what he saw as the legitimate rights of British subjects. Even more, he didn’t see his own personal and political outlook as more patriotic than the outlook of his political opponents.
While it’s certainly true that the only realistic path Churchill could take when forming a government in May 1940 was by a coalition of the leadership with Labor and Liberals along with Conservatives, he was perfectly willing to do so. He never doubted Liberal or Labor patriotism because, after all, Conservatives had been as unrealistic about Hitler as everybody else.
Winston Churchill well understood the nature of political parties. According to the 2002 Churchill biography by the late Roy Jenkins, Churchill, while running as a Liberal during a special election in 1909, drew the following distinction between Liberalism and Socialism:
“Socialism seeks to pull down wealth, Liberalism seeks to raise up poverty. Socialism would destroy private interests; Liberalism would preserve private interests in the only way in which they can be safely and justly preserved, namely, by reconciling them with public right. Socialism would kill enterprise; Liberalism would rescue enterprise from the trammels [meaning hindrance or impediment] of privilege and preference.” Winston never ran from the label of politician.
The Churchill mindset was inevitably a military one, but he also possessed a sense of social justice. He was sympathetic to home rule for Ireland. Additionally, he favored national health insurance and social security for the aged. He was leery of unions but understood their value and recognized their legitimacy.
On the surface, it would appear that Winston Churchill would be hand in glove with today’s right wing foreign policy. After all, he hated tyranny and increasingly endorsed conservative economic concepts. Nevertheless, as shown above, he could draw distinctions. Communism was evil, but Churchill never thought for a moment that by defeating Hitler he’d defeat all evil (in contrast to Messrs Limbaugh, Hanity, Beck and Madam Palin, et al). When once asked about Britain’s Cambodian policy, he is said to have observed: “I don’t worry about little countries such as Cambodia and little countries such as Cambodia don’t worry about me.” Oh, how much I hope that this quotation is not apocryphal.
As I see it, the sharp distinction between Churchillian military and political truculence versus what pours forth from today’s right wing is that Churchill was humble enough, even with his considerable vanity, to acknowledge that his political, socio/economic and spiritual values possessed no monopoly on respectable legitimacy.
Perhaps the key to the eternal Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill can be found in his prescription for a truly powerful nation’s most healthy outlook on the world:
“In war, resolution; in defeat, defiance; in victory, magnanimity; in peace, good will.”
In peace, good will? Hmm! I can live with that. So ought you!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
TWO GRATEFUL GOBBLERS
By Edwin Cooney
Like you, I was brought up to be thankful for having been born in America, “Land of the Free and Home of the Brave.” Lately however, I’m increasingly confused by the angry level of our political discourse.
Whenever I’m confused I drop into my local watering hole to consult Lunkhead and Dunderhead whose cordial but contentious political and social certainty almost always helps me focus.
Lunkhead, who preaches from the right, was as usual sitting to my left, a dead cigar in his face, stirring his scotch with a swizzle stick. Dunderhead, who pontificates from the left, was sitting where he always sits, to my right, sipping his usual lime-doctored Mexican beer and munching on handfuls of salted peanuts.
“You look confused, me lad!” observed Lunkhead as I took my seat between them.
“I’m both confused and conflicted this Thanksgiving,” I admitted. “I’ve always been raised to be thankful, at least once a year, for having been born in the land of the free and the home of the brave. However, if I’m to believe some, I’m living in a land that’s no longer either free or brave, as evidenced by the man who “we, the people” knowingly elected President in 2008. First, they insist that he’s a non-Christian, non-native-born leader who would sacrifice our freedom in exchange for “nanny care” government. Even worse, they insist that in world affairs our new president prefers a worldview of America to an American view of the world. Hence, he’d cheerfully surrender to terrorism. Still others insist that President Obama’s leadership here at home has put us back on the road to recovery from the precipice of a catastrophic national depression brought about by a bunch of “economic royalists” (FDR’s old term). In foreign affairs, these same people insist that President Obama is strengthening our national security by bringing America back into harmony with the world. So, should I be scared or grateful? I’m confused!”
“Well,” said Lunkhead, “You put it nicely. I know I’m plenty scared! I fear we’re being led by a non-Christian socialist president who is more world-centered than he is American-centered. Whether he’d surrender to terrorism is, at least, arguable. It’s also a fact that we are being led through an abomination of overspending and “big brother” “snooper vision” [an old Paul Harvey term] by Barack Hussein “Obamination” [a new right wing talk show host label]. Still there’s much to be grateful for: the NFL, the NHL, the NBA, college football and basketball, country music and, above all, Fox News.”
“Nuts!” shot back Dunderhead. “Here at long last we have a president who realizes that the individual’s well-being shouldn’t totally depend upon his monetary value, a president who realizes that we have to understand the world if we’re to get along peacefully in it, and all you can be thankful for this Thanksgiving is the NFL, the NHL, sports, country music and Fox News? God knows you do need educating, Lunkhead!” hissed Dunderhead.
“Wait a minute, Dunderhead,” said Lunkhead. “Do you think the first Thanksgiving dinner enjoyed by the Pilgrims grew and hunted itself? Do you really believe that the birds, beasts, and fish that were served jumped out of the forests and water and onto the Pilgrims’ plates as a result of some big government recreation program? Was the first Thanksgiving earned or was it a government “giveaway?” I say it was earned by hard work and shared as charity with a local Indian tribe.”
“That’s damned interesting that you put it that way, Lunkhead,” said Dunderhead. “Our first national Thanksgiving was the first—to use your words—“government giveaway.” After all, the 52 remaining Pilgrims from the Mayflower were alone in a land of millions of Native Americans. They didn’t know squat about where to find the best fish or game, they knew nothing about what crops they could grow in the soil of Massachusetts, but the most knowledgeable and powerful source for the identification and distribution of the information at the time were the Wampanoag Indians. Well, that’s what a government does: identify and distribute information. The Indians knew what to do and where to go and how to utilize those essential life-giving resources, Lunkhead. The Indians, after all, didn’t have to help those strange-looking, helpless, undocumented aliens from Europe. They could have wiped them out with little trouble. Instead they administered a little ‘government assistance’,” said Dunderhead with passion.
“So,” Lunkhead fired back, “you’ll be grateful for big government this Thanksgiving, hey, Dunderhead?”
“No, not exactly that,” responded Dunderhead. “I’ll be grateful this Thanksgiving just as the Pilgrims were at the very first one in 1621 that the leader who commands the most potent military force would act toward me with justice and grace rather than with fear and loathing. Even more, I’d expect him to act the same way toward you, Lunkhead,” said Dunderhead, signaling for a new beer.
“Here’s my bottom line question,” I said. “My holiday peace of mind depends in good measure on your answer. Are you fellows thankful for one another?”
“We insist on the right to abuse each other,” asserted Dunderhead.
“Damn right,” said Lunkhead, “It’s our birthright.”
So I handed them their Thanksgiving gift. I gave them each a bottle of -- you guessed it -- Wild Turkey. I’m nothing if not thankful—even for those two contentious gobblers!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Like you, I was brought up to be thankful for having been born in America, “Land of the Free and Home of the Brave.” Lately however, I’m increasingly confused by the angry level of our political discourse.
Whenever I’m confused I drop into my local watering hole to consult Lunkhead and Dunderhead whose cordial but contentious political and social certainty almost always helps me focus.
Lunkhead, who preaches from the right, was as usual sitting to my left, a dead cigar in his face, stirring his scotch with a swizzle stick. Dunderhead, who pontificates from the left, was sitting where he always sits, to my right, sipping his usual lime-doctored Mexican beer and munching on handfuls of salted peanuts.
“You look confused, me lad!” observed Lunkhead as I took my seat between them.
“I’m both confused and conflicted this Thanksgiving,” I admitted. “I’ve always been raised to be thankful, at least once a year, for having been born in the land of the free and the home of the brave. However, if I’m to believe some, I’m living in a land that’s no longer either free or brave, as evidenced by the man who “we, the people” knowingly elected President in 2008. First, they insist that he’s a non-Christian, non-native-born leader who would sacrifice our freedom in exchange for “nanny care” government. Even worse, they insist that in world affairs our new president prefers a worldview of America to an American view of the world. Hence, he’d cheerfully surrender to terrorism. Still others insist that President Obama’s leadership here at home has put us back on the road to recovery from the precipice of a catastrophic national depression brought about by a bunch of “economic royalists” (FDR’s old term). In foreign affairs, these same people insist that President Obama is strengthening our national security by bringing America back into harmony with the world. So, should I be scared or grateful? I’m confused!”
“Well,” said Lunkhead, “You put it nicely. I know I’m plenty scared! I fear we’re being led by a non-Christian socialist president who is more world-centered than he is American-centered. Whether he’d surrender to terrorism is, at least, arguable. It’s also a fact that we are being led through an abomination of overspending and “big brother” “snooper vision” [an old Paul Harvey term] by Barack Hussein “Obamination” [a new right wing talk show host label]. Still there’s much to be grateful for: the NFL, the NHL, the NBA, college football and basketball, country music and, above all, Fox News.”
“Nuts!” shot back Dunderhead. “Here at long last we have a president who realizes that the individual’s well-being shouldn’t totally depend upon his monetary value, a president who realizes that we have to understand the world if we’re to get along peacefully in it, and all you can be thankful for this Thanksgiving is the NFL, the NHL, sports, country music and Fox News? God knows you do need educating, Lunkhead!” hissed Dunderhead.
“Wait a minute, Dunderhead,” said Lunkhead. “Do you think the first Thanksgiving dinner enjoyed by the Pilgrims grew and hunted itself? Do you really believe that the birds, beasts, and fish that were served jumped out of the forests and water and onto the Pilgrims’ plates as a result of some big government recreation program? Was the first Thanksgiving earned or was it a government “giveaway?” I say it was earned by hard work and shared as charity with a local Indian tribe.”
“That’s damned interesting that you put it that way, Lunkhead,” said Dunderhead. “Our first national Thanksgiving was the first—to use your words—“government giveaway.” After all, the 52 remaining Pilgrims from the Mayflower were alone in a land of millions of Native Americans. They didn’t know squat about where to find the best fish or game, they knew nothing about what crops they could grow in the soil of Massachusetts, but the most knowledgeable and powerful source for the identification and distribution of the information at the time were the Wampanoag Indians. Well, that’s what a government does: identify and distribute information. The Indians knew what to do and where to go and how to utilize those essential life-giving resources, Lunkhead. The Indians, after all, didn’t have to help those strange-looking, helpless, undocumented aliens from Europe. They could have wiped them out with little trouble. Instead they administered a little ‘government assistance’,” said Dunderhead with passion.
“So,” Lunkhead fired back, “you’ll be grateful for big government this Thanksgiving, hey, Dunderhead?”
“No, not exactly that,” responded Dunderhead. “I’ll be grateful this Thanksgiving just as the Pilgrims were at the very first one in 1621 that the leader who commands the most potent military force would act toward me with justice and grace rather than with fear and loathing. Even more, I’d expect him to act the same way toward you, Lunkhead,” said Dunderhead, signaling for a new beer.
“Here’s my bottom line question,” I said. “My holiday peace of mind depends in good measure on your answer. Are you fellows thankful for one another?”
“We insist on the right to abuse each other,” asserted Dunderhead.
“Damn right,” said Lunkhead, “It’s our birthright.”
So I handed them their Thanksgiving gift. I gave them each a bottle of -- you guessed it -- Wild Turkey. I’m nothing if not thankful—even for those two contentious gobblers!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, November 16, 2009
MUSINGS OF A WINNER’S FAN
By Edwin Cooney
Fear not, I don’t apologize for my pleasure in the Yankee’s recent World Series triumph over the Philadelphia Phillies. I do however propose to put this phenomenon we call “fandom” into perspective.
A fan is short for fanatic and, as we all know, fanaticism, especially religious or political fanaticism, can be dangerous. Danger to life and limb is one thing; danger to one’s assurance that his or her favorite sports franchise, entertainer or author has no peer is, for the most part, delightfully benign. However, because the word “fan” is the root of “fanaticism,” there is an understandable intensity to the emotion we expend favoring our heroes.
When Phillies’ centerfielder Shane Victorino grounded to Yankee second baseman Robinson Cano for the final World Series out, I was at my favorite watering hole enjoying a glass of foamy libation. I’d resisted such libation earlier in the evening, but alas, the intensity of the game loosened my resolve and there I was, beer glass in hand, as the New York Yankees won their first baseball World Championship in nearly a decade. I was pleased to say the least. Most of the people in my favorite watering hole were much less than pleased -- to say the very least.
Since both my residence and my watering hole are a continent west of Gotham, Yankee fans are scarce. A’s, Giant’s, Dodger’s, Angel’s, Padre’s and even Mariner’s, Rockies’ and Diamondback’s fans reside in this neck of the American woods in great abundance — and not only are they plentiful, they can be both nasty and rabid, especially when traveling in packs.
My oldest son, who has been victimized by A’s fandom since childhood, has a fantasy. He proposes to get into full Oakland A’s gear and travel to the Bronx. There, on the hallowed ground of Yankee stadium, he proposes to openly insult local denizens into chasing him from the park and down into the subway where he’ll nimbly jump aboard a subway car and get away from those frustrated Yankee fanatics.
Meanwhile, back at my local watering hole, as soon as the echo of my applause faded away, a discussion occurred as to whether or not I was bragging about my team’s traditional superiority. I insist that I never brag about the Yankees because, after all, I myself have never gotten a base hit, stolen a base, scored a run or put out an opponent. The one thing all fans have in common is their inability to contribute to the success of their heroes.
From time to time, I do point out the major reason why a lot of teams aren’t successful. Many team owners won’t spend the money it takes to hire the necessary players, coaches, and others for the essential team development that allows the Yankees to achieve what they do. What many fans don’t realize is that rich teams such as the Yankees, Red Sox, Angels, Cubs, Mets, and Dodgers pay a luxury tax. Some team owners put that money into team development; others put it in their pocket. Were I a fan of a luxury tax revenue receiver, I would want to know which type of receiver my team owner was. Many team owners are simply cheap! Too often, their motive is profit rather than victory.
I also argue that the Yankees’ money doesn’t buy championships because win or lose they always outspend their opponents. The truth is that money definitely helps, but it takes much more than money to be a champion. Non-Yankee fans don’t like this distinction largely because it blunts their favorite beef against the Yankees.
As the 2009 World Champion Yankees accompanied Mayor Michael Bloomberg through New York’s Canyon of Heroes two days after their victory, no doubt good citizen Yankee fans cheered as other team’s fans, those other citizens, did whatever they do best. Surely, Yankee fans hugged and congratulated one another generously offering each other assurance that there’s no finer baseball team than the mighty New York Yankees. Surely they were bold in their pride…but, wait a minute.
Like all other fans, Yankee fans are sensitive to anything short of approbation for their heroes. Like other fans, their pride can be shattered by the slightest suggestion that their triumph is unfounded or, even worse, illegitimate.
In a mere instant, pride fades into pain, cheers become tears and all that’s left is a very special hope. That hope is that next year’s Yankees’ triumph will be of such magnitude that all baseball fans may be sufficiently humbled so that they, too, may grovel at the feet of the mighty Yankee Yogi forever and a day. Amen!
PRAYERFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Fear not, I don’t apologize for my pleasure in the Yankee’s recent World Series triumph over the Philadelphia Phillies. I do however propose to put this phenomenon we call “fandom” into perspective.
A fan is short for fanatic and, as we all know, fanaticism, especially religious or political fanaticism, can be dangerous. Danger to life and limb is one thing; danger to one’s assurance that his or her favorite sports franchise, entertainer or author has no peer is, for the most part, delightfully benign. However, because the word “fan” is the root of “fanaticism,” there is an understandable intensity to the emotion we expend favoring our heroes.
When Phillies’ centerfielder Shane Victorino grounded to Yankee second baseman Robinson Cano for the final World Series out, I was at my favorite watering hole enjoying a glass of foamy libation. I’d resisted such libation earlier in the evening, but alas, the intensity of the game loosened my resolve and there I was, beer glass in hand, as the New York Yankees won their first baseball World Championship in nearly a decade. I was pleased to say the least. Most of the people in my favorite watering hole were much less than pleased -- to say the very least.
Since both my residence and my watering hole are a continent west of Gotham, Yankee fans are scarce. A’s, Giant’s, Dodger’s, Angel’s, Padre’s and even Mariner’s, Rockies’ and Diamondback’s fans reside in this neck of the American woods in great abundance — and not only are they plentiful, they can be both nasty and rabid, especially when traveling in packs.
My oldest son, who has been victimized by A’s fandom since childhood, has a fantasy. He proposes to get into full Oakland A’s gear and travel to the Bronx. There, on the hallowed ground of Yankee stadium, he proposes to openly insult local denizens into chasing him from the park and down into the subway where he’ll nimbly jump aboard a subway car and get away from those frustrated Yankee fanatics.
Meanwhile, back at my local watering hole, as soon as the echo of my applause faded away, a discussion occurred as to whether or not I was bragging about my team’s traditional superiority. I insist that I never brag about the Yankees because, after all, I myself have never gotten a base hit, stolen a base, scored a run or put out an opponent. The one thing all fans have in common is their inability to contribute to the success of their heroes.
From time to time, I do point out the major reason why a lot of teams aren’t successful. Many team owners won’t spend the money it takes to hire the necessary players, coaches, and others for the essential team development that allows the Yankees to achieve what they do. What many fans don’t realize is that rich teams such as the Yankees, Red Sox, Angels, Cubs, Mets, and Dodgers pay a luxury tax. Some team owners put that money into team development; others put it in their pocket. Were I a fan of a luxury tax revenue receiver, I would want to know which type of receiver my team owner was. Many team owners are simply cheap! Too often, their motive is profit rather than victory.
I also argue that the Yankees’ money doesn’t buy championships because win or lose they always outspend their opponents. The truth is that money definitely helps, but it takes much more than money to be a champion. Non-Yankee fans don’t like this distinction largely because it blunts their favorite beef against the Yankees.
As the 2009 World Champion Yankees accompanied Mayor Michael Bloomberg through New York’s Canyon of Heroes two days after their victory, no doubt good citizen Yankee fans cheered as other team’s fans, those other citizens, did whatever they do best. Surely, Yankee fans hugged and congratulated one another generously offering each other assurance that there’s no finer baseball team than the mighty New York Yankees. Surely they were bold in their pride…but, wait a minute.
Like all other fans, Yankee fans are sensitive to anything short of approbation for their heroes. Like other fans, their pride can be shattered by the slightest suggestion that their triumph is unfounded or, even worse, illegitimate.
In a mere instant, pride fades into pain, cheers become tears and all that’s left is a very special hope. That hope is that next year’s Yankees’ triumph will be of such magnitude that all baseball fans may be sufficiently humbled so that they, too, may grovel at the feet of the mighty Yankee Yogi forever and a day. Amen!
PRAYERFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, November 9, 2009
A SPECIAL MISSION FOR A SIGNIFICANT DAY
By Eddwin Cooney
As I’ve often observed in these writings, since a regular year contains only 365 days with which to mark the births of some seven billion human beings, each day of the year is significant to someone. Aside from your birthday and those of the people you cherish as well as perhaps your wedding anniversary or a favorite holiday, I’m sure there are some specific dates that mark meaningful occurrences in your own life. November 9th is such a day for me.
It was on Tuesday night, November 9th, 1971 that I met and began dating a very special lady. Her name was Marsha Marie and our closeness lasted from that night until November 12th, 1972. I’ve been privileged to be close to a few ladies in my adulthood, but Marsha was special. Petite, soft-spoken, and keenly intelligent, Marsha possessed a rather mischievous sense of humor. Thoughtful of others, Marsha was sweetly accommodating to those she loved. Our closeness was playful and sweet but all too short, and I miss her still.
Thirty-five years have passed since I last saw Marsha and it was a difficult parting. She had ended our relationship a year and three days after it began and I missed her immediately. We began seeing one another again, ever so cautiously, in the spring of 1974 and I had hopes we might resume our former togetherness. Alas, however, it was not to be.
I raise this whole matter because every November 9th that passes I’m reminded once again of the value and potential of opportunity. In my heart, November 9th will always be my “Opportunity Day.” It isn’t that I haven’t had rewarding relationships with others since that “sweet season” of some thirty-eight years ago. It’s just that I’ve learned how painful missed opportunity can be. That sweet time is so long ago and yet so vivid.
I was a junior/senior in college during that sweet 369-day season. During that time: Richard Nixon was the president. He visited China during a very intensely close and personal week of our relationship; the first baseball player’s strike occurred in April 1972; J. Edgar Hoover died; George Corley Wallace was shot and subsequently paralyzed while campaigning for president; President Nixon and Soviet Premier Brezhnev signed the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty in Moscow that May; Elvis Presley performed in Buffalo, New York in April and at Madison Square Garden that June; and then there was the Watergate break-in which took place on June 17, 1972.
The late Speaker of the House of Representatives, Thomas (Tip) O’Neill (D-Mass) has often been credited with the observation: “All politics is local.”
In that spirit, I respectfully offer my own observation: “Everyday is personal.”
As surely as personal deeds direct our fortune, the days that engrave them forever into our awareness are the lodestars to our ultimate wisdom. Every time I hear a talk show host pontificate, hear a sermon from the pulpit, read an opinion piece or write a column, I’m reminded that little of what we think, say, or do is truly objective. We have our hearts in most of what we do and, if we don’t, we ought to.
Across the veil of years, I like to believe that what Marsha Marie and I shared could have blossomed into a deeper and more lasting relationship. Whether or not that’s true, I know that I, personally, could have done more than I did to nurture what we shared.
Certainly there are a number of other days that are important to me. Some of them I may include in future writings. November 9th, however, my personal “Opportunity Day,” is, for me, especially special.
Thus, in fond remembrance of my time with Marsha Marie, I offer November 9th as Opportunity Day. Ah, but perhaps it is the memory of a different day which triggers the energy and love you possess to fuel the realization of dreams yet unrealized.
If such a day comes to mind, grab it and make it your Opportunity Day. By so doing, you’ll have definitely enhanced mine.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, November 2, 2009
A WORLD SERIES IN NOVEMBER?—BRRRR!
By Edwin Cooney
Sure it’s November, but it’s really and truly World Series time—honest! So, what does a November World Series say about you, me, and this land that we love? Can a World Series ever reflect what America is capable of feeling or doing? The answer is that the World Series, in one way or another, always reflects what Americans are all about.
If the 2009 “Fall Classic” goes as late as Thursday, November 5th, it will pass the record of November 4th set in 2001. Ironically, just as that World Series took place on the latest date in world series history (up to now) due to the events of 9/11, it was also a war which was the reason for the earliest start of the World Series.
As the 1918 season got under way, America was at war (as it had been in 1917) with Germany, Austria-Hungary and Turkey -- otherwise known as “The Central Powers.” The American “Expeditionary Force” was fighting in France and the outcome was by no means certain. Back on May 23, 1918, the War Department under War Secretary Newton D. Baker issued a “work or fight” order. That meant that every able-bodied male must either be fighting in France under General “Black Jack” Pershing or be working in a war industry-related factory by July first. Film actors were exempted, but baseball players were not.
Fan attendance at baseball games was down except strangely enough in Pittsburgh. Amidst considerable squabbling, team owners decided in mid-summer to end the season on Labor Day, September 2nd. Thus, 124 American League and 103 National League players spent much of 1918 in new and unaccustomed uniforms. All 227 major leaguers who enlisted or were drafted did survive, but one former major leaguer would make the “supreme sacrifice.”
On Thursday, September 5, 1918, as 19,274 fans greeted the Red Sox and Cubs in Chicago for the opening World Series game, Americans were sufficiently mindful of “the war to end all wars” to start a tradition. In the middle of the seventh inning of pitcher Babe Ruth’s complete game shutout of the Cubs, a military band played the “Star Spangled Banner”. It has been played before every game since. Ballplayers were sufficiently appreciative of their civilian status that Fall so they avoided a near strike over the reduced amount of money being offered by the owners as World Series compensation. Series losers would get approximately $600 and winners about $1,200 -- approximately half what they’d been receiving -- and the players were not in the least happy about it. A player’s strike was only narrowly averted.
The 1918 World Series was over by September 11th. The Red Sox were “World Champions” for the fifth time in 15 years -- and for the last time for the next 86 seasons. On Saturday, October 5th, about the time the series would normally have begun, Captain Edward Leslie Grant (“Harvard Eddie” they called him) was killed in action in France’s Argonne Forest. Captain Grant, a native of Franklin, Massachusetts and a Harvard graduate, played ten years as a left-handed batting infielder (mostly at third base) in the majors with the Indians, Phillies, Reds and, finally, with the New York Giants. If baseball’s small but vital sacrifice wasn’t noticed by many, it must be remembered that Eddie Grant was only one of 116,708 men who was sacrificed to “…make the world safe for democracy.”
So one has to wonder: what does this year’s late (and perhaps snow-driven) World Series say about you and me? Scheduling and financial considerations appear to have more to do with 2009’s November World Series than any national emergency. Despite our involvement in both Iraq and Afghanistan (as far as this observer knows), no current or former major league ball player is risking life or limb on a foreign battlefield. The $600 and $1,200 1918 World Series checks might equal the tips that bat boys receive from this year’s World Series participants. Attendance in 2009, despite the recent economic downturn, was satisfactorily high.
A November World Series might say any number of things about 2009 Americans:
It may show that we’re a longsuffering people since we put up with baseball day in and day out for seven long months. It might demonstrate a vulnerability to national obsessive indulgence. On the other hand, November baseball might indicate to a potential enemy how tenacious we can be should they dare mess with us.
Author Doris Kearns Goodwin remembers attending the World Series in Brooklyn with her father during the 1950s wearing merely a light sweater against the October chill. My guess is that she’ll be sitting indoors wearing her sweater during this year’s series. One thing is certain though: hell won’t freeze over as quickly as a November World Series! BRRRRR!!!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Sure it’s November, but it’s really and truly World Series time—honest! So, what does a November World Series say about you, me, and this land that we love? Can a World Series ever reflect what America is capable of feeling or doing? The answer is that the World Series, in one way or another, always reflects what Americans are all about.
If the 2009 “Fall Classic” goes as late as Thursday, November 5th, it will pass the record of November 4th set in 2001. Ironically, just as that World Series took place on the latest date in world series history (up to now) due to the events of 9/11, it was also a war which was the reason for the earliest start of the World Series.
As the 1918 season got under way, America was at war (as it had been in 1917) with Germany, Austria-Hungary and Turkey -- otherwise known as “The Central Powers.” The American “Expeditionary Force” was fighting in France and the outcome was by no means certain. Back on May 23, 1918, the War Department under War Secretary Newton D. Baker issued a “work or fight” order. That meant that every able-bodied male must either be fighting in France under General “Black Jack” Pershing or be working in a war industry-related factory by July first. Film actors were exempted, but baseball players were not.
Fan attendance at baseball games was down except strangely enough in Pittsburgh. Amidst considerable squabbling, team owners decided in mid-summer to end the season on Labor Day, September 2nd. Thus, 124 American League and 103 National League players spent much of 1918 in new and unaccustomed uniforms. All 227 major leaguers who enlisted or were drafted did survive, but one former major leaguer would make the “supreme sacrifice.”
On Thursday, September 5, 1918, as 19,274 fans greeted the Red Sox and Cubs in Chicago for the opening World Series game, Americans were sufficiently mindful of “the war to end all wars” to start a tradition. In the middle of the seventh inning of pitcher Babe Ruth’s complete game shutout of the Cubs, a military band played the “Star Spangled Banner”. It has been played before every game since. Ballplayers were sufficiently appreciative of their civilian status that Fall so they avoided a near strike over the reduced amount of money being offered by the owners as World Series compensation. Series losers would get approximately $600 and winners about $1,200 -- approximately half what they’d been receiving -- and the players were not in the least happy about it. A player’s strike was only narrowly averted.
The 1918 World Series was over by September 11th. The Red Sox were “World Champions” for the fifth time in 15 years -- and for the last time for the next 86 seasons. On Saturday, October 5th, about the time the series would normally have begun, Captain Edward Leslie Grant (“Harvard Eddie” they called him) was killed in action in France’s Argonne Forest. Captain Grant, a native of Franklin, Massachusetts and a Harvard graduate, played ten years as a left-handed batting infielder (mostly at third base) in the majors with the Indians, Phillies, Reds and, finally, with the New York Giants. If baseball’s small but vital sacrifice wasn’t noticed by many, it must be remembered that Eddie Grant was only one of 116,708 men who was sacrificed to “…make the world safe for democracy.”
So one has to wonder: what does this year’s late (and perhaps snow-driven) World Series say about you and me? Scheduling and financial considerations appear to have more to do with 2009’s November World Series than any national emergency. Despite our involvement in both Iraq and Afghanistan (as far as this observer knows), no current or former major league ball player is risking life or limb on a foreign battlefield. The $600 and $1,200 1918 World Series checks might equal the tips that bat boys receive from this year’s World Series participants. Attendance in 2009, despite the recent economic downturn, was satisfactorily high.
A November World Series might say any number of things about 2009 Americans:
It may show that we’re a longsuffering people since we put up with baseball day in and day out for seven long months. It might demonstrate a vulnerability to national obsessive indulgence. On the other hand, November baseball might indicate to a potential enemy how tenacious we can be should they dare mess with us.
Author Doris Kearns Goodwin remembers attending the World Series in Brooklyn with her father during the 1950s wearing merely a light sweater against the October chill. My guess is that she’ll be sitting indoors wearing her sweater during this year’s series. One thing is certain though: hell won’t freeze over as quickly as a November World Series! BRRRRR!!!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
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