In a new era of terrorism, the US is seemingly coming together because of post 9/11 patriotism. But among sports beat literati, a certain war of words sold as entertainment has turned back the clock. America still shows signs of not growing up after a century of promising social evolution. A time which once saw those of us with vowels at the end of our surnames help the national pastime come of age and give way to a new breed of Latin player who basks in the glory of a new age of big men and high powered offense.
Just when you thought we could all get along with our sports icons, a book comes along which would be banned or boycotted if its subject were Black or Jewish. I'm talking about Richard Ben Cramer's literary crucifixion of the late Joe DiMaggio, a man we hardly knew away from the ball field.
Despite illusions to the contrary, Joe was not the greatest baseball player who ever lived. He was simply the most graceful, a thoroughbred race horse in a field of ponies. Secretariat with the hitting streak.
And yet "The Hero's Life" pins on him the same discriminatory epithets attributed to the legendary Sinatra. That alleged mob ties soured the image and tarnished the myth. But those who would fall prey to part racist rhetoric disguised as full historical fact are in for a quick history lesson.
In days of lore, long before the demise of American pop culture in the 90s, the mob was not the in your face playground of dapper don stooges like John Gotti. Instead it was run by an old world, old school Machievellian wise guy mentality combining evil with smarts. Back then, the auspices of organized crime encompassed all segments of society. The showbiz entertainment world, the political arena. And yes, even sports. So rubbing shoulders with scum of the earth was inescapable no matter who you were.
For sake of foolish argument, let's say that Messrs. FAS and JPD were indeed made satellite celeb men of the Black Hand. One can surmise that if guys in the public eye like Frank and Joe took a suicidal stance and thumbed their noses at criminal elements, they would have become martyrs and we would have no 56 game hitting steak and no "My Way".
Indeed, while a politically correct WASP majority of critics appeased black hats behind the scenes, they chastised anyone famous for being Italian and practicing the art of self preservation in their company. In short, fear in private was exorcized with public loathing. And "greaseball" crooners and sluggers were fair game.
Aside from usual suspect stereotypical associations, Cramer envies DiMag so much, that he takes him to task for wooing and bedding the most beautiful woman in the history of the world. I'm talking about Marilyn Monroe. Cramer contests that their relationship was a wash but didn't do his homework.
Monroe was an abused and fatherless child doomed to stormy relationships with all men throughout her short life. Not only was Joe her best lover by her own admission, he was the rock she turned to in times of need. And if she had stuck with him, the wilds of Hollywood wouldn't have done her in.
To add insult to injury, we have ethnic slurs. Cramer uses the word "dago" so many countless times in this book, that you get the feeling that his hell-spent vitriol and obvious malice would have been best served elsewhere. Indeed, the chip on his shoulder is so heavy that it overshadows any writing talent he has. Everything salacious and off topic is covered in this book, while Joey D's exploits on the field as a ballplayer are almost treated as an afterthought.
Instead of verbally defacating on Joe's memory while he's in his grave and unable to fight back, Cramer could have done himself proud by celebrating one of his own. Being a Jew, it would have been a great service to his own cultural community if Cramer had penned a bio on one of my all time favorite ballplayers, the grossly underrated Hank Greenberg, who may well have broken the Babe's season home run record if it were not for anti-semitism.
It's sad that I have to use this forum to denounce a book that deserves no publicity. But I see no uproar in the media over this filthy piece of garbage. The saving grace in all this is that Cramer lives back east in the wrong part of the country to write this kind of book and get away with it.
With music and in a song, Paul Simon told us who Joe really was back in the 60s, a lonely man defined by his need for privacy. Cramer used rumor and innuendo to bring the man down to earth with the rest of us. But regardless of the truth or lack thereof therein, Joe was already there all along.
Thus Cramer ultimately failed to pass his hatchet job off as the sports bio benchmark on the Yankee Clipper. And there are good reasons why this book has come and gone without much fanfare. Character assassination passed off as print media does not lessen our heroes, regardless of background. Furthermore, the legend of those who were larger than life can't be erased in death by stressing their faults and their humanity.
When all is said and done, although the pen of a yellow journalist seems like a stake in the heart of the late Joltin' Joe, like an undead vampire, the romance of his life story will live forever with Marilyn. In short, words die young when they try to play tabloid mind games with immortality. And when Pulitzer Prize winning sports writers resort to hate speech to sell books, you know baseball's best days are in the rear view mirror.
» Hank Festa is fan who believe that in a day and age where balls and players are juiced, we should respect the athletic innocence of baseball's past.
Also by Hank Festa
» Looking for Growth ... In All The Right Places
» Get Your Red Sox Here: Weep All About It!
» The Strike Zone Or Your Life: The Bean Ball Debate Exposed
» Seasons In The Sun : Baseball In The 70s
» A Closet GM's Philosophy Of Winning: Stats & Role vs. Heart & Soul
» Gibby's '88 Series Limp Shot: Baseball's Last "Earned Home Run"
» Flamethrower's Epiphany: Confessions Of A Live Arm
» In The Event Of A Strike...: The Time Off Must Be Used to Fix the Game
» More submissions
Copyright © 2002 by Hank Festa. Posted June 21, 2002.
BALLPLAYERS | TEAMS | CHRONOLOGY | TODAY | BOOKS | NEWSLETTER | ERRATA | FAQ
