Sixty-one

Thursday, March 17, 2016

St. Patrick’s Day was a huge holiday in my growing years because my mom, of Irish heritage, made it so.  We’d have the house decorated in green stuff and have a meal that included milk dyed green, green jello, green mashed potatoes, green peas, green cake and other assorted green food.  In fact, I thought for years everyone did this and was a little put out when Holly joined us the first time and turned her nose up at the green milk. 

In later years with the Cleveland Athletic Club, I came to dread the day.  It meant I’d be working hard from 5 a.m. to well past midnight trying to satisfy the needs of a thousand drunken members and their guests.  I did get to see the parade though, since it made its way past our entrance.

So it caught me slightly off guard when I wrote something down late in the day and included the date only then realizing it was the 17^th and it should matter.  In fact, I had a plan for dinner that included spaghetti, which seemed like a high crime. 

John and Don joined me for my special spaghetti sauce and a ‘baseball’ night.  As we have done many times before, we ate and then relaxed in front of my TV to watch what I consider the best baseball movie ever made – ‘61’.  Directed by Billy Crystal, it is the story of the assault on the most storied record in baseball, Babe Ruth’s single season home run record of 60.  Until 1961, baseball pundits considered it untouchable.  But it was an expansion year meaning that new teams had been added and the talent pool of pitchers depleted.  Sluggers like Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris would have more chances against marginal major leaguers to hit home runs – and that is just what they did.  Mantle was injured in early September and ended his season with 54 homers, but Maris continued to march towards a date with destiny, to the chagrin of most of the New York sporting world, which considered Ruth’s record sacrosanct.  Crystal paid painful attention to every detail about the season, the harassment Maris received, the mood of the fans and reporters and even Major League baseball itself.  The acting is superb and the actors can actually play baseball!  Even for people who know nothing about the game, it is entertaining and powerful. 

Because of all this, I managed to ice and splint my heel, which was sore from another 10,000 steps, but left me without the time to do a good workout.  It happens.  I’ll make it up.

Bonus: 10,600 steps.