The first cup of black coffee had not quite done its job, as I was slowly paging through Wednesday morning’s New York Times. But page B11 sure did.
There, filling up the entire page, was my childhood. Two big headlines stretched across the top and the middle of page B11 evoked a rush of memories that were very special — yet quite different. One memory was pure fun. The other, powerful and meaningful to the real making of America.
The headlines reported that Whitey Herzog and Carl Erskine, two famous baseball stars in their mid-90s, had just died. Just reading their names rekindled memories about my fleeting but forever moments with two of their teammates who were more than just sports stars — they were cultural constellations. We’re talking now about Satchel Paige and Jackie Robinson. They were icons of the era when America belatedly but finally began lurching into racial and civil rights change.
Whitey & Satchel & Me: Reading Herzog’s obit, my mind began replaying a 1957 moment when I was one of the kids waiting for autographs after a night game at the old minor league Miami Stadium. Paige, baseball’s famously aged pitcher with his ageless arm, was still at it. He’d unretired to star for Bill Veeck’s new AAA minor league Miami Marlins.
Paige was always the last to leave — and they’d turned out the stadium lights before Paige finally emerged with a young Herzog.