What a contrast with contemporary athletes whose perfidies soak
up the air time — Lance Armstrong, the pharmaceutical biker, and
Manti Te’o, he of the résumé-enhancing virtual girlfriend. If there
were any justice, these two frauds, and many other contemporary
athletes, would be sentenced to read and heed everything ever
written about Stan Musial.
Stan was laid to rest Saturday at a full-house mass and funeral
in his adopted home of St. Louis, with the search still on,
fruitless to this point, for anyone The Man disappointed in his 92
years of a most splendid life. Yes, Virginia, you can be one of the
most talented athletes of your generation and lead a successful
life in public without being a cad, a fraud, a hot dog, a skirt
chaser, a chronic complainer, a diva, a druggie, a drunk, or any of
the other personal blights that too often now accompany athletic
fame and the preposterous riches that come with that fame.
Everyone who knew Stan has stories of his sunny disposition, his
courtesy, his lack of pretention, his patience, the way he
respected everyone, high or low. He didn’t charge for the thousands
of autographs he gave, and his only performance-enhancing drugs
were coffee and the odd Budweiser. If free-style common decency
were an Olympic event, Stan would retire the gold. Musial brought
sunshine into the lives of everyone he touched, with the exception,
of course, of National League pitchers who had to try to get him
out over 22 years.
Stan’s departure brings us closer to the end of what many
consider to be baseball’s golden era, the end of World War II
through the fifties, when baseball was truly America’s pastime and
Major League stars were looked up to in a way they never will be
again. Williams, DiMaggio, and Mantle are already gone. Stan became
a giant of this era without the moodiness of Mantle, the
prickliness of Williams, or the hauteur and hermit tendencies of
DiMaggio. Doubtless this is why Stan’s funeral, like Cardinals
World Series games, was standing room only.
The Cardinals were in the World Series in ’42, ’43. ’44, and
’46, Stan’s first years. They then took the rest of Musial’s long
and illustrious career off. But Stan was the nice guy who finished
first on fans’ scorecards, even when the Cardinals built some
forgettable teams around him. The only thing that could have
improved on Musial’s brilliant career would have been more October
Stan. What a treat it would have been to have watched Stan go up
against Whitey Ford and company in those fifties championship
series.
One of the backbones of Stan’s virtuous life was his deep
religious faith, an aspect of Stan’s long journey that is not often
remarked on. Stan, family call-sign Stosh, was the son of Polish
and Czech immigrants and a lifetime devout Catholic. He attended
mass, both home and away.
Another kind of Cardinal, Timothy Dolan, Archbishop of New York
and president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, presided
at Musial’s funeral and spoke of Stan Musial, man of God. For much
of Musial’s post-playing days, Dolan, a baseball enthusiast, was
St. Louis auxiliary Bishop, and Stan was one of his flock.
“You’re standing there, and you’re trying not to notice that
it’s Stan Musial coming up to get Holy Communion,” Dolan said. “And
here comes of one the greatest ball players ever — he had the world
by the tail — and yet the reverence with which he approached this
sincere act of faith, this union with the Lord in church. That’s
what it’s all about.”
As much as many baseball fans have treasured the opportunity to
meet Stan, Stan the international traveler was more than pleased in
the seventies to meet the then archbishop of Krakow, Karol Wojtyla,
later to become Pope John Paul II. Stan later enjoyed private
masses with John Paul II, a former jock himself from early days who
was comfortable with the world-class athlete and sincere Catholic
that was Stan. On one visit, a Catholic priest who knew Stan
encountered him on the staircase to John Paul II’s chambers. Stan
told the priest it was OK for him, Stan, to be there because, after
all, he was a Cardinal.
Stan’s unique mix of humility and self-confidence has been
remarked on. Stan never bragged or played the self-important guy.
But he didn’t do false humility either. He knew he had a gift from
God, and so could do things athletically that other men couldn’t
approach. A story Dolan told illustrates this.
On one of their lunch dates, Dolan asked Musial what he thought
he might hit if he played today. Musial said, “With a juiced-up
ball and bat and AstroTurf, I might hit .275.” Dolan protested that
Musial was selling himself short. Stan shrugged and said, “Well,
I’m 80.” Those who saw The Man in his prime have no trouble imaging
an 80-year-old Musial loosening up and hitting some frozen
ropes.
Go with God, Stan. Thanks for your life. Thanks for showing us
how it can and should be done. And you two clowns — Lance and Manti
— pay attention dumbheads!!
Photo: UPI
